Camera Angles 2
by Donrocs1
Summary: Sequel to 'Camera Angles'- previous story of mine. Former security-worker Phillip Linn has traveled the world a year and a half after the events of the first story, hunting down more of the 'Beings' that serve the same powers he beat back. But while in Austria, Phillip has no idea that a new villain- a monster named Flintlock -has propped up closer to home. AU
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1.**

 **Fritz's Wagon.**

* * *

In the dull gloom of a passing shower, the dark sky was hidden under a blanket of grayed clouds and cascading layers of rainfall.

Concrete walkways stretched from both ends of a massive public service highway, besides four lanes meant to control the busy traffic of the area's capital, and largest city which sprawled in a nighttime lightshow in the backdrop and above.

The amount of water drenching the streets of Vienna was appalling- but not unheard of.

However, due to such proximity of the population within the city's limits, these famous streets, and the famous buildings attached to them- were barren, and business was shut down for the time.

In the beautiful architecture of a cultural, and nationalistic hub that would overwhelm the eyes of those never before introduced too it- a lone hooded figure curled tighter under his rain coat -mind too conflicted to focus on the wonders around himself.

Down the sidewalk he strolled, rain-boots clomping against the concrete wetly- water rushing and misting down his shoulders and the creases of the yellow-colored hood.

He- _he_ , being the man seen here -had never been to the illustrious streets of Vienna, Austria.

Here he was now, and he was severely disappointed that sightseeing was not on his list of goals this stormy night.

The world was so grand outside his former closed-in life, there were places that were fable to him that he now understood in their true splendor- people that had seemed utterly alien, that now became familiar.

This history-rich city was no different for him.

It was an amazing place that he did not have time to stay and bask in.

For, through the rain as he walked- there was a objective, a mission, that he was on.

This 'Mission' might not make sense to those who had been ousted from a series of specific events that had entered his life a year and half ago- might not make sense, because of the singular horrors and wonders he had experienced in the most unlikely of places.

He had a tale that was brief, in span of physical passage- but epic in effects taken to everyone, and everything, around him.

A long time ago- there was a traveler passing through a road that he had never walked before. Similar to this rainy sidewalk.

A long time ago, this road- dusted with age, bland with uneventful rolling of time and its motions -was the least threatening thing, that anyone in the general vicinity, could _ever_ , have predicted as the precipice of mankind's fate.

So a simple traveler went down this road, searching for an answer to his acutely boring life- and at first, came up with nothing.

Then, as he aimlessly kicked pebbles across the dirt highway- there was an elderly gentlemen who offered him something, a proposition.

'Watch this-here road, and you'll be making coin, and saving lives.' He explained. '-What do you think?'

'Why saving lives?' The traveler queried.

'There are... Horrible things, that try to trek this road.' The elder explained grimly. 'I understand if you wouldn't want to accept such a deal.'

'I... Have nothing else.'

'Then, t'is settled!'

-And so the traveler- the drifter -became a stalwart gull against whatever 'Horrible Things' were to infiltrate the road.

Again, at first, nothing happened, he came up dry- and bored once more. His life seemed uneventful in some stupid little guard-post on the side of the dirt way.

He fiddled. He mumbled. He chastised his own judgment.

Then like that, a monster attacked him, and nearly killed him.

The traveler, now-guard, was baffled by the creature's appearance into his life- and by its intentions -and challenged the sheer possibility of it all to the elder as he returned from elsewhere.

'This doesn't make sense! It's not real!' The traveler mourned.

'What isn't real, isn't always non-existent.' The elder mulled. 'I need your help. Please.'

'I... I have nothing else.'

'Then follow me.'

The monsters were unable to reach him for the longest of times it seemed- one of the creatures even _sided_ , with the prey its fellows attempted to slay.

The traveler, the elder, the former-monster, were bolstered by another- less stable -member of the mistaken beasts.

Supernatural forces from the greatness beyond added to the conglomerate war-effort- and the crusaders- traveler, elder, two former-monsters, and the ghost of a hero -struck into the heart of the attacking creatures.

The elder fell, but so did one of the demonic antagonists- then, the ghost was gone, one of the renegade creatures- the one with the most craziness in its system -also perished.

Finally, the last 'Good' being on the traveler's side- the first renegade to go with him -was ended as the last of the demons were destroyed.

The traveler found the road empty again- like he had never found the elder and the prospect of his new adventure, his new life. Sorrowfully, the traveler left the dirt road- returned to his home faraway.

All the new companions he had made and connected with, had been taken from him. Sure, he had stopped the evil- but the cost was almost outweighing the forgotten possibility of his defeat.

The traveler almost lost himself in darkness.

Then, fate intervened. While the elder and the ghost were long gone- the two renegade creatures, his new friends- were returned to him. He revived them. His life was filled with sunlight again. The traveler, this time- had _won_.

He never forgot the dirt road- or the guard post -and especially, never did he forget the elder and the ghost of the hero.

The traveler- taking his companions with him -set off to ensure such horrific atrocities were never to be committed for a second time in their lives. He receded from the society around him. For in his mind, he had all the society he needed.

And who knows, up until today, he might have been right.

But the shadow of the dirt road is starting to loom again.

The creatures- while defeated -were not the _only_ of their kind slinking in the dark, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Something horrible is approaching the world's doorstep once more.

The only thing to stop it, is a traveler. A traveler, and- in this modern day -the right set of camera angles to see the danger.

So the traveler, in his raincoat, trudging through the deplorably wet conditions of Vienna, began anew his journey for liberation, and personal crusade.

This city was in danger. No one here knew it. And no one here would _ever_ know it, if he had his way.

You see, those 'Beings' the shadows that lurked in his prior age- Vienna was housing one of them.

-Well, it was technically housing _two_ of them- but he was only after _the_ one.

Hiding in plain sight, this demon would begin to wreak havoc if left to its now awakened devices.

The traveler, could not have that.

It had taken a week of travel to reach Austria, and another two days to reach Vienna herself. Like prior stated- now he was here. No time to visit the shrines and memories of history.

 _Except_ , for the one he was already aiming for.

 _HEERESGESCHICHLICHES_

-Read a massive plaque of stone emblazoned on the ancient-appearing, decadent, and steeple-topped face of a wondrous building that held five sets of large glass doors atop a grand flight of stairs.

This, was the Museum of Military History.

THIS, was where the traveler needed to enter during the hours of no business.

Taking a quick right in his stroll down the expansive walkway, the coated man went right through a series of thin metal line-borders that were arranged in a filing path to a ticket-booth and reservation kiosk- two green little hunch-back buildings that sat before the first step.

The traveler bypassed them quietly- mounted the first step, eyes locked from beneath his hood to the glass doors ahead-

"HALT! Stopp!"

-And he was set upon by a man calling through the rain.

Stopping in his tracks, he winced when a dull cone of illumination shone forth from a portable flashlight- boots clomped down the steps towards him, and very quickly, a man dressed in a blue-drab jacket with a guard hat on- stood before him- soaked.

The Austrian security worker reminded him of a part in his life he had left behind. It mused him.

"Das Anwesen befindet sich nicht offnen." The guard said formerly. "-Ich muss Sie bitten zu gehen."

Fumbling, the coated traveler's shoulders arched, and he tried to speak on shaking tongue.

He was forgetting his line. And, he _did_ indeed, have a trained line he was supposed to say.

"-U-Uhm... Oh-crap- UH-Ic-Ich habe- Habe, uhm... G-Geschaft? Geschaft! Yeah-I mean- Ja!"

The guard looked at him through the rain- face now glistening with moisture as rain formed a downpour over and around his security hat, which he kept a hand atop to keep steady.

"Herr? Bist du betrunken?"

"-I-uhm.. I have busi- I MEAN- Ich habe G-Geschaft!- Geschaft... Oh, you know what- for goodness' sake! I can't speak German! Knock him out, please?"

The guard squinted at him with a lowered jaw- heard someone clear their throat behind him- and he spun around just as a palm flew out and connected with his forehead.

 ** _PCK_**

There was a hollow thud, the guard's eyes went wide, and he fell onto the concrete, out cold. His little hat flew a few inches over his cranium's final lay.

The hooded traveler breathed a sigh of relief, and gave a thumbs up at a taller hooded individual who stood over the security worker with disapproval.

"Thanks." He said. "Good hit!"

"It's- Ich habe Geschaft hier!- ICH HABE GESCHAFT HIER! How did you forget that?!" The other coat-covered person- a woman -barked in his face.

The man reclined, and blinked uncomfortably.

"I don't speak German..." He muttered. "-Rehearsing it a few times didn't help. Oops."

"It's amazing, that I know more German than YOU..."

"Oh-yeah? And what would I say if he asked- 'What business? With who?'- huh?"

"THEN I was gonna knock him out."

"Oh, so a few seconds longer, real great, yeah..."

"Shut up."

"Follow me, angry."

The man reached down, and dug out a card from the guard's belt, before bending down, and slipping his soaked coat-arms underneath the jacket-wrapped ones of the fallen Austrian.

As he started to drag the unconscious man towards the steps in sliding drags- the woman gazed with draped arms- completely at loss.

"-What?" He asked. "He'll get sick if we leave him out here!"

"You're unbelievable..."

"Well, it's the least we could do after you just kicked his ass!"

"You had one moment of being a fighter, ONE- and now you're a pacifist? Pfft."

"No! What about that freak I tore apart in Dover!"

"-It was a doll."

"A POSESSED doll! A possessed doll, with a CLEAVER- Trying to KILL ME. I need some kudos!"

"Stop talking and let's do this."

"Fine-fine... But don't expect me to take pity on someone YOU feel bad for..."

The woman covered the grand flight steps as her companion took longer to drag the guard up carefully with him.

Eventually, he leaned the security worker against one of the pillars that divided the top plat of the stairs before the glass doors- both coated beings happy at the lack of rain battering their features.

"How do we get in again? The doors are alarmed." She nodded.

"There should be a kiosk-door over here... C'mon."

"Alright."

Together, they jogged over to a inconspicuous dip in the plat that ran along the foot of the building- an alleyway that ran underneath the front face wall of the museum with a few stone steps descending.

The man hurried down them, and his friend walked after him.

At the foot of the steps, a steel door with a security lock stood dominant- it was alarmed, he knew from remembering the specifications he'd prepped with.

"What was the code again?"

"You forgot the God-damned code too?"

"... Maybe…"

"How have we survived this long?! You SUCK at this!" She moaned.

"Nah- I'm just yankin' your chain!" He chuckled. "-It's 677190."

"Doofus."

"A doofus you WUVS, yes?"

"Debatable."

"Ah-hah."

"Open the freakin' door..."

"Yeah-yeah... Nagulese."

She huffed at him as he swept the card he'd acquired through the black receiver box beside the electronically locked push-handle- which made a buzzing noise, and popped ajar for him to shove.

The door squeaked as he pressed both hands into the handle- and a small light revealed the stone interior of the kiosk to them in the dark rainy night.

The little office was empty- thank God.

Smiling briefly, the coated man rushed past the door- found the silently chiming key panel by the right-inner-side of the door frame- and dabbled his fingers across the keys to type in his previously stated knowledge-677190.

Basically, they had just entered as a security guard.

Thus, no one would have any indication to investigate one of the night duty from taking a break in the front employee station.

He guessed the Austrians normally didn't have museums broken-into in the middle of their tourist-infested capital all that often...

That worked really well with their plan.

Waiting for his companion to step in, he reached over, grabbed the inner latch of the door, and swung it closed with a slow drag.

 ** _CLUNG_**

-The constant chatter of the falling rain was lost to their hearing- now only symbolized by a low howling of the wind being discerned from inside the museum.

Checking around them, the man stowed the card on his pocket, looked back at the door, and 'Tsked' as if in humor.

"-See? Good thing I wore gloves!"

"'This about the whole HANDPRINTS discussion again?"

"Well you don't leave them! I DO."

"Touchy."

"Look who's talkin'..."

They started towards the center of the kiosk- the chamber forming a zenith of a small table with thin metal chairs lined around it, and flanked by a reception-like desk strewn with papers and folders, a desktop computer stood on the right corner with the tower by the desk's right foot on the floor.

A bookcase filled with pamphlets and magazines was propped on the wall behind that- and afterwards, was another door that would lead to the museum's lower level.

"This place stinks like moldy cheese..." The woman complained.

"Someone had a sandwich." He sneered, looking inside a waste-basket by the side of the desk. "-Nasty."

The door at the back also had a scanner black-box- so he drew the card down it, and this handle popped too.

He shoved the entry out of his path, waved his arm for her to follow him- the two silently worked up another stone flight of steps.

Tiny humming of machinery- what sounded like electrical equipment -buzzed at the top of the stairs, which were sided by concrete walls, and topped with metal railings. He was sure to keep an eye towards the railings in case someone looked down at them.

"You wanna' head up?" He asked.

"Sure."

The woman leapt at the side of the concrete- fingers grabbing and wrapping around the top ledge beneath the metal railings- all at a height that no normal person could simply scale with a single jump.

She hoisted, scrabbled over the rail top- and vanished above.

He still worked up the stairs- reached the last one- and peered around the side his companion didn't go into.

They were in the museum's basement sublevel- four fat generators- powered down -were lined against a westward wall gridded with wires and pipes. Heating and monitoring boxes taller than he was drew down from the northern wall from one end to the other end of the room.

"Psst!"

He swung his eyes over to see his friend pointing at another small stairwell.

"Hold on..." He whispered.

The man hurried from his crouch behind the railing towards her.

"This entrance should prop us out between two exhibits..." He said.

"Okay. How far from OUR exhibit?" She queried whilst they both started up the flight.

"Two halls to our left."

"-Easy."

"I did good research, huh?"

"Not bad... For someone who sucks at this." She snickered.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Meh."

The man slowly compressed the push-handle- and flinched when the door started to squeak open.

When he hesitated, his companion grew annoyed, grumbled, and shoved the door, _and_ him, forwards with a forceful clacking of bodies and metal.

"OOF-!" The man was cut off as he nearly tumbled through the flung-open door. "-Watch it!"

"SSH!"

As she swatted the door to close behind them- they both took a look around the new hall they had emerged into.

Right on the dot, the door they had exited had a maintenance warning sign above its frame- it was between two outstretches of walls that most likely had exhibits on their other ends from where they stood.

The man pointed down the alley of sorts they were in, to a grand, red-drab carpet-covered passage ahead, that was barred on both sides by fancy-looking rope and golden stand barricades.

They made sure to keep their voices out of the picture- as doors closing and footsteps would not arouse suspicion of the security staff here, but English-speaking out-of-place people, might raise an alarm or two.

It was just a thought really.

The showroom hall was lined with slots that were built in on the sides of the pass, each containing an old piece of machinery, there were weapons and ammo racks filled with guns, blades, parts and bullet shells.

The hooded man spun around slowly to take in the sights when they stood in the center of the aisle.

"I would've loved to visit here outside of work..."

"Well right now, we can't." The woman said solemnly. "-Check that out though, they have some old Lee-Enfields'..."

"-Oo! Hey, look at the Austro-Hungarian Officer Blade there!"

"Wow... That is-NO. Concentrate. Come on."

"Right, right... Sorry."

The girl leaned over to hold his shoulder for a quick squeeze.

"We can come back someday."

In the hanging ambience of the museum's nightly closing, the man shook his head in uncertain affirmative.

These were the kinds of talks that _started_ out nice, and turned rather bleak as they progressed for the two of them. They'd known each other long enough to understand when the subject probably should be just left alone.

"Maybe." He said.

"Maybe." She confirmed with a smile. "You said our goal was two halls down?"

"Yep, THAT way-" He jabbed a finger to their north, down a curling hall of white walls, and green carpet flooring. "-There it is."

"Do you think... IT knows?"

"I hope not."

They started to go down the hall with tentative steps.

A sense of anxiousness ran down them like the drying water that still coated their hoods.

Their target was just around that bend.

"You know what I always say, right?" He muttered to her. "If worst comes to worst. Don't wait for me, okay?"

"-And what I always say? If you're dead. I'M dead. Deal with it."

"Mmhmm... You're my girl. Confirmed."

"Only YOU would get stuck with a crazy one, right?"

"Yyyyep."

Right as they turned around the corner- they saw the pedestal.

A great rectangular platform surrounded by gold barricades, topped with a red drapery indented with four, cigar-like mats where the heavy object atop them had been.

Notice the tidbit, of the object _having_ been there.

For the display plat was empty.

"Oh shit..." He muttered. "-Oh no."

"Where is it?" She asked quickly. "-Where did it go? D-Did they move it?!"

"N-No! No it should-"

"Where's the car?!"

"It should-"

 ** _RVVVVVMMMMM_**

The engine growl behind them stopped their conversation dead.

And, the only scariest thing besides there being a _running_ automobile inside the museum exhibits- was that this particular car, did not have gasoline in it. In fact, the engine hadn't been used for over a hundred years since 1915 or so.

But the old auto ran smoothly.

They turned when two dull cones of light shown against their moist coat backs.

Before them, the black-colored relic was down the hall they'd entered the vehicle section from- having spun around the curve, it aimed its bumper directly for them, engine spewing out tiny pillars of black, demonic soot.

"Hey, there's our target..." The man said with a chuckle. "-A piece of history."

"A piece of CRAP. Let's kill it..." She snarled.

"Who ever thought a year later, I'd be hunting Franz Ferdinand's car?"

Right as he said that- the car screeched down the aisle for them- tires digging up chunks of the carpet, engine roaring louder than its physical model should have ever allowed.

The man stiffened, arms flaying at his sides.

"-Wait-!" He cried. "Wait for it."

"-I don't like that idea-"

"WAIT."

The car grew closer. So close, that in its speeding- he could see the headlights beginning to change hue from white, to crimson.

The bronze-colored bumper shined at him, then, he jumped upwards.

"GO!"

The woman was gone from his vision as her untamed quickness took her in a dodge to the right.

But, after all, he was only human.

So, Mr. Ferdinand's car hit him in the ankles.

Thank the lord it was a really, _really_ old car, cramped in tight-quarters where its speed couldn't be matched to lethal impact.

Still, his feet flared when the hood hit him mid-flight.

"OW-! Oh-crap!"

 ** _CLUNK_**

Strewn atop the car's hood, the man gazed inside at the empty driver's cabin, and the empty passenger seats behind that.

His arms wrapped over the hood's flanks, and his legs hugged the vehicle's frontal grille.

With a violent screech, the car skidded to a halt- nearly tossing him off the top.

"-HIT HIM NOW!" The hooded one called. "HIT HIM NOW!-"

The hood swung upwards.

He felt air rush by all his body at once.

The car's flung-ajar engine cover catapulted him a foot in the air.

The man sailed with a silent hiss of air, clambered and impacted into the rear passenger bay of the car, through four chairs of dark red leather.

"Ack!"s and "Oof!"'s gave off every time he slacked off a part of the chairs or inner doors.

His head swam, and pain ached in his head and legs.

This car was a freakin' fighter. A _car_. Who'd have thunk it?

"H-Huh... THUNK." He mused to himself.

"I GOT HIM!"

 ** _CLK!_**

 ** _RVVVVVVVVVVVVVVIIIRRRRRRRR_**

Flinging to lean on his knees on the back of a passenger seat cushion- the hooded man leant over the rear trunk to see his companion jamming her right forearm into the leftwards back wheel of the car- jamming the mechanics that connected it to the undercarriage.

Steam built from the tearing carpet as the car tried to reverse, and succeeded only in jerking her arm down a few times.

"HURRY-UP!" She snapped, reaching down to wrap the other arm around the tire.

The hooded man nodded, clambered over the seats in the back of the car- and hung over the open-topped cabin.

The steering wheel looked like it was convulsing as the entity controlling the vehicle frantically tried to parry his friend from holding its wheel.

He would have none of it.

"-We've been looking for you, freak!" He spoke to the dashboard. "Pucker-up!"

A garbled mish-mash of deep groans and shrill cackles emanated from all of the car's physical form at once- the body started to jerk around from the raw effort of desperation the vehicle was put through.

The hooded one pressed his hands to the wheel, stopping it from another turn.

He closed his eyes, and began to link up with the addition he had been granted.

The addition, that had been instilled in his very being, after he had completed the adventure of his life a year ago.

White-flowing wisps of energy cascaded from the fingers wrapping over the wheel, the car began to shake, and the screaming noises grew louder and panicked.

"Out you go, come on, you BITCH!" The man shouted through grit teeth, white light flowing across the wheel and his forearms.

"COME-ON! I REALLY NEED YOU TO SUCK-RIGHT NOW!" The woman yelled behind him.

"-I'M-TRYING!"

 ** _SKSH_**

"-I GOT HIM!"

The white light receded, the man clambered back into the driver's seat, hands quaking, glowing red.

The car stopped running- the engine stalled, the wheels grew still- the woman gasped as she draped over the rear tire when her strength finally wasn't needed to keep it down.

She grabbed the rim of the trunk, and spoke loudly through heaves.

"-K-Kill it!"

"Back to hell, you go!"

The man squeezed his fingers- emitting a terrible screech of animalistic vocals.

His fists shook violently, the red energy seething between his fingers pulsed heavily.

He grunted, and his hands grew smaller as the thing he had in his grasp, was literally crushed.

A sickening burst of what sounded like snapping bone flooded the chamber, the shrieking stopped. Then, gushing, black blood flowed from the man's hands.

Panting, he winced at the material that was repugnantly seeping from the entity that he had extracted- and now -the entity that he had destroyed.

Franz's car was still, it bucked a bit when the woman leaned upwards to stand, and gazed at him over the rear passenger bay.

"-H-Holy crap... P-Phillip? You okay?"

"Yep... I'm, uh... I'm freaking peachy. Yep."

"Are you hurt?"

"No... But the demon is."

"-Is that-?"

"Oh yeah, I got him..." He tossed his head back, discarding the hood over his features to drape across his coat's back.

Phillip Linn opened and dipped his hands over the driver-side door's top rim, letting a sickly concoction of black sludge seep onto the carpet down there.

Her left hand- a silver hook in place after the wrist- reached upwards, and tore the hood down to a similar position on her own apparel.

Phil frowned in musing at the furred, elongated, vulpine features that stuck its tongue out to him in response.

"-We won at least, right, Fox'?"

"Eeew." She sneered.

Foxy stretched her back in an arch, and rolled her shoulders whilst stepping back from the car.

Phil grinned dumbly at her- flicked his hands -nudged open the driver's door with his heel, and stepped out onto the stained carpet- wiping his slick hands down the moisture of his coat.

"I think for the first time in my life... I'm grateful it's raining outside."

Foxy kicked her legs and cricked her neck both ways.

"I could use an all-natuurale' jog, couldn't I?"

"If you say so."

"You did good." She smiled. "I can't believe we just... WON like that."

"Experience always helps." Phillip Linn swept his hands one last time, and gestured for the tire-tracked way they came down the museum hall. "Shall we?"

"Is it break-time yet?"

"We're in Austria... There HAS to be a break-time."

"You're going to help me unscrew this stupid hook tonight, right?"

"Where'd you leave your spare paw?"

"I think in the van's cubby..."

"Alrighty."

"How do you think Mangle is doing?"

"She hasn't burnt down my house yet... So, hopefully, we still have a 'Yet' to discuss."

"She means well..."

"All a matter of perspective?"

"Different camera angles, sure-" Foxy pointed at the several cam-corders in the ceiling corners of the hall, that had recorded the whole fight. "-Mind taking those down?"

"Yep!"

Phillip held an open palm- and a burst of crackled white flickered all down his wrist.

Then, all the electrical equipment in the museum flickered. The cameras burnt out. The footage, and knowledge, was lost.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

 **It's Kind of Like a Vacation...**

* * *

 ** _"So! Thought you'd gotten rid of me, did you? Well I'm afraid not... I convinced that fat author to sell me a few bom- I mean, SPACE, for more Writs!"_**

 **-Writ 101 of Surveillance.**

* * *

It had really been nearly two years already.

How had that all happened two whole years ago?

How had her being been completely turned upside down, flipped over twice, and then shown in a greater light to her entire overview? Her entire daily time here, in reality?

Awhile ago, she had been willing to take an easy way out of her hell-hole of a life. Now, she was happy- she was confident, she was braver and stronger, wiser. She had a passion.

Back then, she had _nothing_. She had a dusty set of rooms to wallow in- there wasn't any passion there.

Yet a year and a half later, two-years, give-or-take- you would understand the point -she was in some foreign land, miles and miles away from her dull trap of existence, hunting down the kin of the monsters that had tortured her.

Foxy had decided that, in her life- wherever Phillip went, she would go as well, and Mr. Linn had no objection to her choice.

It had taken her a long time to adjust not having to be fearful, or worried, and to just _be_ , without negative energy drowning her days.

But Foxy had fallen into a pattern of ease- like she had whenever her life had shifted so majorly in the past. She got used to being bored or preoccupied in a nice urban-zone house, simply chatting for the heck of it with her companions, watching television, or even playing videogames.

In fact, Foxy had meshed so well with it all, that she even beat Phillip all the time in a videogame called- 'War of the Monsters'- and for the life of him, he could not play as any monster in the game and win against her.

Foxy had taken to 'Doodling' or- aimless drawing, as Phil coined it -whenever she was unoccupied.

She'd learned how to repair herself with Phillip's extensive power-tool assortment, how to carve shapes with woodworking like he had shown her a year and a half ago.

Phillip had liberated her- albeit unintentionally at first encounter -but, now that he had sculpted her into such a productive person, she was all the more attached to him in an inseparable bond.

Phillip Linn had gone to work for a run-down children's establishment as a nighttime shift, security worker meant to monitor all the cameras and the dark halls after hours of no customers, and cranky janitors.

He had been doing odd-jobs at the place known as 'Freddy's Pizza' -beforehand, and had built somewhat of a good standing with the restaurant's owner- the Old Man -a short fellow by the name of Matthew.

Matt had asked of him to try the night shift, under the delusion, that due to so much inactivity from the animatronics that harbored evil within the halls at dusk- the young man could be introduced as help without risk of harm.

Understand, Foxy, was one of _five_ of her kind.

There was a bear- a massive, walking mountain of lead and muscle- Freddy, whom, despite childish appearance and title- was possessed by a supernatural being, a 'Demon' that was a conglomerate of negative energy, and raw hate.

The bear had made a career of murdering people, and abusing the other two animatronics at his side, to fall under his word without question.

There was the bird, and the rabbit, again, both all-too innocent sounding titles, for creatures that preyed upon the naive nature of man.

Then there was Mangle- another fox, like her, but different in her lack of mental stability, and a body that was made of coiling pipes, like a hundred snakes.

All three of these awful villains- ones that had made her miserable her entire life -and had killed innocent people, were slew by her, Mangle, and Phillip during a week long battle.

In that time, Matthew perished- they were aided by his lifelong friend, a former BPD officer named Jensk, from the afterlife itself. Mangle couldn't get enough of befriending Phillip, and Foxy outright became swoon for him.

Whereas Phil was a average-height, skinny human with a comedic outlook on his days- Foxy was a near 6-foot tall vulpine with the head, fur, and organic mesh of a fox. Her right paw had once permanently been a curved hook, and an eye-patch was kept over one eye at all times.

She had been stuck in her 'Pirate'-acting costume for years, even when the children, and the people in general- stopped coming.

When she had left with him, he had replaced her hook with a brand new paw- like her left -she stopped putting on the eye-patch, and she started learning how to clean her fur.

One of the greatest sorrows for her back then- besides the social, emotional, and mental hell -was how her appearance had absolutely become atrocious, and how she constantly was reminding herself how ugly she was.

That was another problem Phil had helped her fix.

Like she could reiterate endlessly- she had become so infatuated with him over all these wonders he had aided her ease into, that when Phillip told her one day about his new desire for a career, she had vowed to follow.

Phillip explained to her on a rainy evening, a little less virulent than this one at present-

"Foxy, I want to find the other beings that the bear was talking about." He said. "I want to find them. I want to fight them."

Phillip knew that there were so many problems between people in the world, that he had no power over to stop.

But he could not live with himself knowing more of those... _things_ , were hiding in the dark corners of the world, and were harming everything around them. In fact, these demons created all the negative energy, that _made_ everything evil in the world, happen.

Not only were they hunting down the most evil, and insidious beings in the world- but they were also hunting the progenitors of all injustice to ever happen.

Phil believed if demons ceased to exist... That evil would cease to exist as well.

That belief had driven Phillip to put aside money, and fund excursions all across the world to find items, or outright creatures, that harbored the dark power of a demon.

They had found mostly objects that acted as a vessel for one of the beings- Phil had tangled with a doll they had read about in a showroom -he'd killed a dog-like creature in England with fur made of shadow.

Foxy herself had proven dominant in a melee with a large winged beast in a place called New Jersey, she had trekked through a building rife with hallucinations, traps, flying blunt objects, and found a chair that the demon had been living in- evaded all the obstacles, and smashed the thing against a wall.

Every time they could not outright kill the monster- Phillip would use the strange new powers that had been left in his system since he had destroyed the bear.

These spiritual powers were basically 'Residue' of the higher powers that had helped him to fight Freddy- they allowed him to manipulate electronics and machinery, and to 'Sap' the beings from any objects they possessed, where he could crush their essence.

Like with Franz's car, Phil had repeated the ritual a few times now, and with such limited exposure, he was already becoming quite skilled at it.

With moisture flowing through her matted fur, ears laid down to avoid water seeping into them- Foxy mulled on the memories of the last few cycles of time with a light grin.

And as she fondly recalled it all for herself for the uptienth' time, Phillip saw her appearing so dream-like, and laughed at her under his coat's hood.

Foxy heard his chuckle through the drabbing rain, looked at him, and smiled deeper.

"What?" She asked. "I know, I look like a walking mop when I'm wet. But I don't care tonight."

"-No-no, not that," He said musingly. "-You've got that mind-traveling look again."

"Yeah... I guess so."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Just how... Everything is so different... I guess?"

"Not a bad subject to think about. It's amazing to me too."

"Who said, I thought it was AMAZING?" She sniggered.

"I dunno. What else would you call it?"

"Unbelievable. Best thing that ever happened to me. Spirit-altering."

"Going all Guru on me again?"

"No."

"-I'm just kidding, Fox'.

"I know. But I still wouldn't change it for anything."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Down the stormy sidewalk of Vienna they trekked, until, through the haze if the weather- a blocky vehicle came to view, parked on the side of the empty road, with no other automobiles around or near it.

Phillip blinked with nostalgia when a 80's era, bulky, fat-looking mini-van revealed in detail to them.

The familiar vehicle- a rental that had physical resemblance to the past- was their ride out of this place.

Foxy stopped in her walk by the front-passenger side of the van, and ran her paw down the door handle with a slowly developing frown.

"...You know..." She said aloud.

"-Hold on, can we get inside?" Phil called from the driver side.

"...Yeah. Yep."

"-Alright-hold on..."

Phillip clicked the 'Unlock' key on his chain a few times, and the handles made a popping hiss. Both parties grabbed them and flung the doors ajar, before sliding inside the van with hurried ducks.

Phillip shivered as he sat in the red colored seat of the van's cabin, teeth chattering, hands deftly working to shove the key in the ignition.

Foxy shut her door right after his, wrapped her arms over her shoulders, and watched when the vehicle grumbled as the engine started.

"-S-So... What were y-you gonna say, F-Fox'?" Phillip stuttered coldly.

"-Um... How are we getting home again?" She switched gears.

"We gotta' drop his off at the shop, then we're taking a flight to New York. It's driving from there."

"Long trip for killing a car..." She scoffed.

"Killing a car, AND that hybrid-nightmare in Bavaria."

"You think it was worth it?"

Phillip sighed in relief when the van's heating hummed on, tightening his coat about himself, and holding his hands before the vents on the dashboard.

He looked at her seriously for a moment.

"I think every time we smack one of them, it's worth it."

"...I trust you."

"I trust you too. What did you want to say before?"

"You're good."

"I've known you long enough to read the signs, Fox'."

"No it's nothing... I just... The van kind of reminds me of him."

"HIM?"

"...Matt."

"Oh... Oh yeah, I... Uhm... I could see that."

Every now and then, they did remember the manager of the forgotten business back home.

Phil knew it hit Foxy harder whenever it was brought up, because, after all- she DID know him longer.

The vulpine animatronic bowed her chin to her chest in a low huff, eyes lazing in a tired expression.

"I want a vacation." She stated factually.

"DO you?" He laughed.

"I want a vacation at home."

"...Alright, we'll stay home for a good while."

"We have the money, right? You're not going bankrupt spending all this time with me, right?"

"It's all good, I've actually been making a lot of sales with the short stories."

"How has that one about the Pilgrim finding the Indian ghost been selling?"

"Oh- _Windward Rock_?"

"Yes! My favorite one."

"My best seller."

"I think that's wonderful."

"How has your drawing been going?"

"I've been slacking..."

"Well stop that!" He teased. "I want you to be famous already."

Foxy deflated a bit at that, but didn't bring voice to it.

Phillip sort-of noticed the emotional drop, and decided it best not to keep nagging her with it. He pulled the ignition to DRIVE- the van bucking a bit as he stepped on the brake.

"When we get to the airport dealer, just wait outside for me, alright?"

"With the coat on?"

"I hate making you wear that..."

"People can't see me, so..."

"I feel... Really bad about hiding you. You know that right?"

"You have no choice." She responded with a shrug. "It's not your fault."

"But still..."

"-BUT STILL, nothing. You told me you'd make my life livable again, and you have done that and MORE. I'm not complaining."

"Well, then I'm happy." He said. "I am."

Foxy leant over the glove-box between them, and shoved lightly against his arm with her own.

"I love you."

Phillip smiled at her, and cleared his throat.

"I love you too."

"We haven't said that in a few weeks."

"-The stress of planning these trips, just... It makes me forget some of my responsibilities. I have to work at that."

"It's okay." She nodded at the damp road presented through the windshield. "We should get going."

"Yeah. I think it's only twenty minutes from here..."

The car grumbled, tires wetly dragged against the concrete.

Soon, the black-painted van was slowly traversing down the street's right-hand lane.

By morning, the rain would lighten, and an array of police sirens would wail all the way to the Museum of Military History- where the strange 'Attempted Theft of Franz Ferdinand's Car' would remain unsolved to the current day.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

A dull howl of wind was the only ghostly residue to be left in the rainstorm's wake. It fluttered between pine trees, whistled over the edges of buildings, and careened past light poles and street signs.

The forests that gridded the further urban sprawls of the city wavered two and fro under the consistent push-shove of the breeze. Squat structures of lined houses, residential streets, shopping centers, drew down from the skyscraper-centered heart of Vienna.

In the receding dusk, a cool, crisp tint in the air was brought to her attention as she stared across the limited view the beveling land gave her.

Whenever boredom hit the senses in a grander scale than usual- specific weather, or environments-as this had a nasty way of reminding the party in question of that age where everything had gone down the crapper.

Foxy didn't really have a set 'Age' for herself- and she had told Phillip on a number of occasions that she had never had a beginning, instead of just always _being_ there.

Her life had always simply existed.

No birth. No creation. No conception or cataclysmic, dramatic event...

Foxy had always been Foxy. For as long as Foxy could remember. It was Foxy, and nothing else. There... Was just... _Foxy_.

It was degrading in that context.

The vulpine snorted underneath the multiple layers of winter-clothing over her body and head.

When would there be anything _but,_ she wondered.

Though, on that- there kind of _was_ something new to add to the mix, and there had been for around two years.

Like she understood, and all those that knew her understood, she had been miserable for around twenty years. That was most of her life.

And then, that stupid little human showed up.

Phillip Linn. A young guy, wire-like build, brash with some of his emotions, pretty bright, and a recluse since the death of his father. All of that kind of morphed into something greater after their close-call back home.

Phil became more open, he talked fluently with people outside his circle again- he grew smarter and wiser.

The former guard was already idolized in Foxy's mind upon initial interaction.

As you could guess, the more he forged their pairing into this grander scale- that idolizing only cemented itself with larger volume in her mind to him.

There wasn't another living person in the world she cared for as much as Phillip. In fact, there were times she had unintentionally started babying him.

She was overprotective, and when there was a hint of something she didn't like, she was next to him with a paw on his shoulder, and a light growl in her throat. It was enough that, as she examined her behavior more openly- it mortified her.

But right after it was done mortifying her, _back_ she went to doing it again.

- _However_ , this isn't to put off her own sense of authority or position as a singular entity in their relationship.

Phillip, was actually, probably worse than her in that department.

For the few times that she had had to bundle herself under coats, or rags, or heavy clothing to interact with people- Phillip rarely let her do it by herself.

A new habit had started developing with Phil, she had noticed, and now remembered fondly as she recollected all this in her mind.

If Phillip didn't like something she was doing- in a way of, maybe she'd get hurt, or make a poor choice -his arm would go over her hips, and if he couldn't physically reach her, he would start rubbing his fingers together until he could.

That was one of the more flattering things he had done around her.

Foxy- despite being under four or five entire coats and hoods -smiled widely from her view down the street to where Phillip stood beside the black rental van.

A woodland laden concrete road snaked past her- the small trio of convenience stores that were dotted in a square plaza she stood before -and right past a rental dealer with a big billboard, with big red German words on it that were removable with pins.

Phillip had a translation pamphlet out with him, and was talking to a gentlemen in a blue overcoat and derby hat by the front of the car.

Foxy hated, and really, _hated_ , not being with him while they were out in foreign countries.

They had traveled extensively- not like one of the movie explorers you saw in the epic-trilogies that had seen every part of the globe and back -but they had been to some pretty dull places.

Not that the man he was talking with looked... _sketchy_ , or anything...

It was actually the contrary- Phillip was laughing with the dude, and arms were going, and from the distance, he was really hitting it off with the Austrian.

Foxy flinched when a distant roaring echoed down the skies above and beyond- from the distance directly behind her, a large passenger jet took off in the form of a great shadow that began to fade in the gloomy clouds above.

 _FLUGHAFEN WIEN_

Foxy had no idea what that meant again- but that was the terminology for Vienna's airport that they were walking to afterwards.

Leaning back, she compressed the material of her outer covering against the wood of a telephone pole that stuck out from the flank of the sidewalk.

Foxy sighed impatiently and stared at the distant Phillip.

Feeling a disturbance by her arm- she glanced over and saw she'd jammed her elbow in the metal crook of a payphone box that was bolted to the flank of the pole.

She blinked at her own lack of perception- nudged over -and resumed waiting.

"Entschuldigen Sie?"

Foxy startled and whipped her hooded head over to her flank, over the box.

A middle-aged man stood in a black, puffy-looking coat, a white beard was shown down his cheeks and chin, and he smiled politely whilst pointing at the phone.

"Sind Sie mit dem Handy?"

"U-Uhm..." She stuttered, stepping back from the phone and looking at him. "-I-I... Hold on..."

She dug into her coat pocket for her own translation pamphlet.

The man nodded as he took up the black device and started inserting coins into the box's receiver slot.

"Engless?" He mispronounced.

"-Uh... Y-Yeah... Yes."

"Tourist?"

"-Yyyyyes!-Yes! I'm a tourist!"

The Austrian narrowed his eyes, raised his lower lip, and dialed the number he was originally pinning in.

Foxy felt her insides pounding from the raw unusualness that slammed into her system from talking to another human besides Phillip.

It was alien to her, that activity, so simple things like this were a bit of a struggle sometimes.

Sighing, she hopped a little on her heels and checked down the road- glancing over a passing car that hissed down and past her as fast as it had appeared -Phil was just waving to the owner and starting to cross over to where she was.

"Ich habe dich auch lieb. Tschuss."

The man behind her hung up the phone and smiled at her as she nervously glanced to him.

He saw Phillip, and turned back to her.

"Husband?"

"Uhm... Kind of?"

"You do not know?"

"-He's uhm... We're thinking about it?"

"Ah. Ah... Striking lad. Good catch." He laughed. "-American?"

"Yeah. We're... That."

"I live there for ten year."

"How long... Ago?"

"Ach..." He rolled his wrist. "-Fifteen? Sixteen year?"

"Oh."

"You like Vienna?"

"It's a beautiful place."

"Ah. -Haven't seen heart of East, until Austria. Ja?"

"I agree."

"Have pleasant stay, ma'am."

"-Thank you. I-uhm... Thanks."

"Hey! Fox'-I mean- HONEY! Who is this?"

Foxy shifted her weight when Phillip finished his trek over, slipped his arm around the back of her waist, and smiled at the older man by the phone.

"Uh- Wie ghet's?"

"-Engless too?" The man pointed.

"Oh- Well, then, yes sir."

"You have nice girlfriend. Why in so many coat?"

"Uh..." Phillip looked at her, and then back at the man. Foxy was interested to hear the excuse. "-It's a little personal."

"Ah. Ah. None business..." The Austrian smiled. "Have pleasant stay here."

"Thank you, have a great day."

Phil almost used too much force tugging her away from waving at the man as he stepped back towards the plaza she'd been waiting in front of.

Foxy snickered at his grip on her and shoved a bit as they walked down the sidewalk.

"'Little Personal' huh?" She laughed.

"What else was I gonna' say?"

She shrugged.

"Well, then there's our ticket." Phillip said. "-Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Phil..." Foxy responded with rolled eyes. "-Really."

"Our flight leaves in an hour, we should hurry."

"We're walking as fast as our legs allow, yes?"

"Yes."

As their boots clacked on the concrete quietly, Phil eventually unwound his arm from over her hips and simply went beside her.

Foxy looked at him under all the hoods.

Phillip hadn't changed a lot in the last two years physically- despite all that shifting she had been considering before -he was pretty much the same ole' Phil she had grown attached to back home at that pizzeria.

It had been a really long time, and they sometimes still doted on it.

She liked to believe that that would stop after a while. It had to.

"When do you think the crowds will start?" She muttered.

"A few more blocks and it'll start to gather up... Just stay with me, like always, alright?"

"Sure thing, HERCULES..."

"I'm YOUR Hercules aren't I?"

"Mmmm..."

"I don't like crowds either- HEY, don't tell me you're CONSIDERING that question!"

"-Mmmmm-Yeah. Yeah you are."

"That's the right answer!"

"-And what am I to you?"

"My Princess, remember?"

"Am I a PRETTY Princess?" She blinked at him. "-HMMM?"

"You're THE prettiest."

"Freakin' suck-up."

"Hey, hold on! I get the boot if I'm too modest, AND if I compliment?"

"Nah."

"That's obscene! What would Mangle say?"

"...I forgot about Mangle..."

"-Yeah, she's... Uhm... She's hard to maintain contact with overseas, yes..."

"Where does she think we are?"

"In 'Germy Man.'" He replied matter-of-factly. "'Germy Man' of eastern 'Eurol Pope.'"

"-She said that?"

"You're not surprised, right?"

"Not at all."

"That's good."

"Say, Hercules,"

"Yes?"

"When are you gonna' use one of those masterful pickup lines to get in my pants?"

"-Fox'!"

"-I'm KIDDING, geez..." She laughed. "-Your face was priceless."

"Sure... PRICELESS..."

"Actually, on that-"

"-While we're in public, Fox'? Really?"

"Phillip, it's been two years..."

"-Yes..." He sighed. "Yes it has."

"You're not going to find a more patient lady, you know that?"

"...It's hard for me..."

"I know."

"-I mean... Fox'..."

"Phillip, I'd really like to try." She bumped into his shoulder. "We've been on the top of this fence for two years."

"I understand..."

"We've been touching, holding, kissing, and saying 'I Love You' for two years."

"I understand."

"What's the holdup?"

"I..." Phil was looking over the opposite shoulder by this point, leaning over to take her hip in his arm again to direct her closer.

Crowds of people were starting to spring up- taxi cars were passing frequently in both directions, and car horns were evident.

"-We'll talk about it when we land. Okay?"

"Sure..."

"Alright, follow me."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

 **What Happens When it all Starts Over?**

* * *

 ** _"If you look closely at a camera's lens, you'll see the reflection of a godly champion. That godly champion- is YOU! You can be the Greek mythological character of security kiosks!"_**

 **-Writ 103 of Surveillance.**

* * *

There was a ladder of power position that was below the understanding of mortals- it symbolized how adept you, and your underlings- were at what you did.

In a hegemony that disregarded morals, life, preservation, emotions, and care for the individual- lords that ruled over pockets of influence sprung up like wildfire, under the jurisdiction of a greater leadership above all of them.

Assets to a lord ranged from living servants, items, cults, and even dedicated legions- all the way to simplicities, such as _nothing_ at all.

Lords warred with each other in the underground campaigns across the globe that had been waged for centuries. They formed alliances. They formed conflicts between each other. They formed grudges. Brotherhoods. Respects. Rages. Disputes. Agreements.

In the many generations before man, it was commonplace for their kind to butcher each other over the smallest infraction.

But now, in the new age, the dawn of what would be a reclaimed physical reality- they had mostly been dwindled over the endless infighting, lack of desire to continue the fight, and of course- the occasional hunters.

 _Hunters_ , were- in the modern day -the biggest problem they could come across.

Hunters were unique people that had been blessed with some unnatural skill, or some unnatural determination.

Hunters were the reason some very influential lords had been felled, much as their kin and fellows would never admit before death to themselves.

For as long as humanity and the darker beings had lived in the same period of time, Hunters had been born.

Luckily though, for their kind, there hadn't been a hunter in around two hundred years, prosperity intertwined with their plans and their assets, and lords were gaining power more than waning.

For a brief time it seemed... _fleeting_ , the resistance of man.

-Then, another hunter was created. Someone who refused to accept.

Now, several freelancers had been destroyed- a lord had been destroyed -and the underground 'Community' if possible to coin as such,-was disturbed by the success this mere mortal struck their ranks with.

Word and knowledge spread quickly here.

And one of the first lords to hear of the new incursion, was Allas'Tee'Vinthrukrem.

-Or, since formalities were quite extended...

Flintlock.

Flintlock had heard the tales of the persistent little rodent that was running around killing all of them in stealthy hit-and-runs. The member of his kind that had been destroyed by the human had obviously set off one of those unique nerves, now there was ANOTHER hero dedicating his life to their extermination.

...Perfect. Really perfect.

He had to give it to the mortal, he had bravery on his side.

Where the prior slain in this corner of the world had intellect and strength, numbers and speed, Flintlock had brute force, _better_ numbers, and all those prior mentioned attributes combined, with a side of some modest appreciation for overconfidence.

The mistake the lord before him had made was underestimating his prey- and many of Flintlock's peers thought that his own handicap, was of an opposite dilemma- because Flintlock made it seem like he _over_ -estimated his enemies.

Flintlock hadn't much authority beforehand his newest ranking... But if there was one thing his kin could not pry from his reputation, it was that he knew how to kill.

"-Why'd we have to hole up in some dump like this?"

"Oh, my apologies, I'll be sure to rent out a hotel next time."

"That would be... Pleasurable."

"Mm. And so would the destruction by our Master when we exposed our identity to the apes."

"Bah... It'd be worth it..."

"Please be quiet... I'm trying to focus on the important things. You know? The things that mean the better for OUR skins?"

Turning on four padded heels, Flintlock crossed two bulky arms made of layered steel, plastics, wrapping cables- over rounded slabs of metal that made his bulky torso.

Suspended by a ball-jointed plat of wires, gears, and a tri-fold of pistons on both flanks- four legs sprouted from smaller sphere-joint connections, spread out in a arachnid oriented stance to support his upper half.

Flintlock's long, reptilian head of mechanical build was augmented with machinery parts that had become 'Grown' into his forehead, and down the base of his serpentine neck over the course of time he'd been material again.

His former address had been to a humanoid figure of gravely stone- three roughly-shaped, uneven chunks of rock making a torso and hips- copper pipes twisted together in the tens to form thighs sprouted from the bottom chin of the rock-waist.

The pipes dug into two cones of rock that made the being's ankles and feet- a head that looked like a warped section of coned metal was driven through with two uneven gashes with red eyes in their blackest centers.

Jagged shoulders made from hundreds of stacked, twisted-together strips, plates, and planes of metals formed large cylindrical expunging points for two thin arms of melded copper pipes towards elbow joints of meshed, dull-red industrial valves.

Finally, in a branch from that- two fists assembled from stacked rocks formed the three-fingered body parts made of cracked, gray earth of the thing's fists, one covered with vehicular hub-caps over each knuckle.

This creature, was Flintlock's right-hand, if you will.

The muscle, his name was Shrap.

With humor lacing his gravel-laden voice, his ally remarked.

"-You think killing ONE simian will get eyes in our direction?" Shrap mocked the very idea of it. "I can't believe you're tracking the little shit down."

"What other idea have you got, aye? Last I checked, SOMEONE- was forced to use a sidewalk as their only alternative for physical reformation... Know him? He's an moronic ass with a bad jest about him."

"If you weren't one of us, I'd have destroyed you. Just a fact."

"Here's another- I AM, one of us- and so any possibility otherwise was thrown away the second I was created. Same goes for you. 'Apple doesn't far from the tree'- we're all made to uneasily coexist... Why add attitude to it?"

"This is why the others hate you..."

"I shake their pill-bottles I know- I know."

"So our agenda has revolved around angering our brethren, finding out where a single ape has run off to... And now...?"

"How to catch that ape in a corner and terminate it. Of course."

"Mm. So, why not walk up to it and KILL it?"

"-He's been mutated."

"The freaking cherubs can DO that?"

"Suddenly got more complicated, right? Tends to happen when you examine things. You should try it."

"That doesn't sound right."

"It's not supposed too."

Flintlock glared over the sulking, rusted frame of a broken, dented, scuffed and ratty car that was lain out next to an entire stack of its kind that towered several feet in the air.

A dull dark gray/blue sky contrasted with the last flittering tendrils of pink above several walls and mounds of vehicles, automobile parts, and a few sheds and garages they were all piled around.

Evening was closing for night, and Flintlock now was gaining the freedom to begin trekking towards his goal- a living being he hoped to kill, and rectify the loss of the overlord he had slain.

Flintlock wasn't certain that any of the other bands or mobs would even blink an eye at the death of this new stir-up in the underground aside from their usual gawking to his misadventures in the name of none but himself.

-But in that respect, Flint' didn't give a flying hell what his kin were concerned with. He HADN'T, for centuries.

"How much further? I'm getting bored." Shrap complained. "I haven't killed anything in years."

"You'll get your shot. Don't worry my finely-stony ally, we'll be covered in ape blood soon."

"How stereotypical..." The stone being groaned. "-How long 'till that promise goes down the drain?"

Flintlock looked back at him, stepping away from the car.

"It WON'T."

"If the others failed, what makes us different?"

"Mortals cannot best us for long."

"You know, the boy' you're trying to vindicate? He's bested us a long time."

"Can't last forever."

"Says you."

"Says history."

"-That's written by the losers, and READ to the losers..."

"Let me ask you- what's with the sudden plunge on your view of us?"

"It's not US I'm concerned with." Shrap shrugged with a crackling of stone. "You remember good that 'Fred'- I think he called himself that -let his ego oversee his logic."

"The others have been locked in personal vendettas for too long."

"Then what are YOU doing right now?"

"A vendetta for a GREATER vendetta overall."

"That sounds mildly poetic... And a double-standard at the same time."

"It's ingenious, and it's unusual- both of which combine best."

"Or CONTRAST worst..."

"You're naive. We'll corner him, we'll kill him. I'll gather more of us to my arm, we'll expand." Flintlock waved an arm in the air. "BOOM. An army. I'm confident. When has my confidence failed me? ONLY me?"

"-You added that last part, so now I have nothin'."

"Exactly."

"Exactly?"

"EXACTLY." Flintlock grinned, suction-cupped feet starting to crawl insect-like past Shrap's stand. "Can we stop pussy-footing and move already? Now I'M chafing."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

"-Sir, we understand that this is intrusive, but we are required by law to-"

"Look, I get that, I really do, it's your job- but, sir, my wife is really, REALLY not feeling comfortable with this... 'Advanced Screening Process' if we could just-?"

"Sir, if you want to catch your flight, I'm afraid you and her must abide by safety regulations."

"Oh for Christ's sake..."

American and western airports in general were already hell enough to get Foxy through prying security- but _this_ , was just a bit ridiculous.

Though, granted, with all the psychos running around nowadays, Phillip couldn't say he necessarily blamed the Austrian staff here for their caution about a woman wrapped up in so much clothing you couldn't even _see_ her.

However, having people see Foxy as FOXY, did not compute with their success and continued lives. Thus, Phil was forced to improvise.

"-How about this? We all forget this happened, you scan her, we get on the plane, deal?"

Right as Phillip said this to the screening translation manager- all but to himself -there was a noticeable pulsation of white-ish air by his wrist, the atmosphere in the room thickened, and all three of the guards, including the translator, had foggy looks on their faces.

The manager was a portly fellow, and Phil was afraid the poor guy would topple over with the burst of mental skewing he had hit them all with.

Essentially, Phillip did feel bad for these tactics he was forced to employ- because all these guys were trying to do was their jobs to keep flights safe.

-But like pointed prior, if anyone, _anyone_ , especially someone with authority- saw Foxy as what she was, the results would not be good in the slightest, and Phillip's newly discovered powers would not fix that dramatic of an event.

So it was good that his developing skills were perfect for little stuff like this.

A quick shake of the men's minds, and they were in business.

"-Friggin' assholes..." Foxy muttered behind him, hugging the coats over herself tighter. "-You used that hokus-pokus stuff on 'em, right?"

"Yep." Phil grinned. "-So, _sir_ , are we screened and clear for flight boarding?"

"-Y-You... A-Are... YES, sir. Yes sir, you are clear... Please... Proceed that way-"

Phillip and Foxy were already halfway out of the room towards the receding line for their plane.

Phil handed the man behind the ticket desk their passes, waited for him to check and scan them- took them back with a grin, and grabbed Foxy's waist to start tugging her along like he usually did.

The animatronic laughed at him under the hood, and quieted when she noticed people looking awkwardly at her for brief intervals.

Luckily, a bunch of the people on this plane were business people- so they had seen the freakiest of the freakiest, and the strangest of the strangest -thus someone with a lot of clothes on was the last thing on their shit-list.

She had to duck a little more than Phil when they walked down the aisle of the plane's center fuselage cabin.

Phillip let her slide in the seat by the window, and he sat after her.

A few more people were filing in and taking their seats.

This was actually a usual routine of theirs by now- Foxy had flown on a few of these things by this point.

Still though, she gazed outside the viewport window with wide eyes at the span of the plane's wing, the expansive tarmac and runway system. Faintly over the horizon of the airport- the city of Vienna and its centered skyscrapers seemed to say farewell a last time.

Foxy had had few locations that she had felt so inspired by- and Vienna, Austria in general was one of them.

Disappointed as she was for her limited exposure to it all, she had seen things and been places that would not have been possible a while ago, so she wasn't complaining at all.

They'd had to basically _live_ in the rental van they had garnered from the dealer- it was why whenever they rented vehicles for a trip, they were always bulky passenger cars, vans, or SUVs- they provided a decent enough ride and cover for their short stays.

Phillip had never kept them in a trip for more than a week- he meticulously would plan out the locations, travel routes, means of reaching _other_ means- and there were backups for all that if any one failed.

On the trip to England, Phillip hadn't slept for two nights going over it all.

Sometimes his passion for stopping these things came off as more an obsession. Despite all the positives that she reviewed earlier- Phil's temper acted up more when they were on hunts -he was more to the point, and if she strayed or took too long, he started to try and guide her physically.

Like any two people in such a lock, she supposed- there were things that annoyed her, as much as flattered her.

What was she gonna' do? Men.

"How long until the plane takes off?" She asked excitedly in a hushed mutter. "I can't wait, honestly."

"I think in a few minutes- they'll go over all that safety stuff again, remember?"

"Uh-huh."

"-Then we should be good."

"Alright."

"You like it when the planes take off?"

"I think it's amazing."

"What flight is this now, do you think, Fox'?"

"I don't know," She shrugged. "Maybe the eighth? Ninth?"

"Maybe."

"Yeah."

On that note- they waited (Foxy, quite impatiently)- for the man to finish demonstrating the usage of all the safety equipment and the buttons around the chairs. As he spoke, a microphone played translations in a God-awful number of languages before English.

Phillip was smiling at the end, because she was practically ready to leap from her seat- her leg was bouncing before her, and she was leaning back into the chair with her gaze locked on the window glass beside her.

The plane started to shift, people quieted down, the runway started passing by the window's view.

Phillip watched his friend's intrigue to the mechanical capabilities of human technology that had been introduced to her.

He remembered the first time they had boarded a plane- that Foxy would not speak the entire time before the thing started to take off.

That had been a trip to Brazil- she came off that excursion a little shaken.

The stress of going on a plane for the first time, for her _first_ hunting trip with Phillip, almost made her keel over.

When the plane took off, she nearly crushed his hand with her paw, and she didn't move until they were flying twenty minutes.

He called her a 'Statue' a few times, and she got angry with him and threw a bag of chips at his head.

-Now though, a year later, and plane rides were actually quite the exciting thing for her.

"You okay, Fox'?" He asked.

"Yeah." She nodded quickly.

When gravity started to shift them in that strange downwards-pull of initiating takeoff- Foxy felt an excitement run through her system that could only be caused by experiencing a adventurous wonder never granted before.

She still got that amazing rush of energy, even though the first flight had long passed into the early year.

It was just so fascinating being propelled through the air- slow or not -by a large metal craft.

She never really got over it.

"-Hey, Phillip?" She asked lightly at the receding pull on their forms. "Here's a question,"

"What's that? You're still okay?"

"-Oh heck, Phil, if something's wrong I'll say so! Quit worrying." She said lowly, bumping him with her elbow.

"Sorry, sorry..." He held a hand up. "I'm paranoid."

"No, you're a good guy," She reminded him. "-So who would win in a race, you think? This plane or a Ju-88?"

"Ha!" He laughed at the World War 2 comparison. "You're funny."

"Yeah." She grinned. "So which you think?"

"I think if the jet was flying at maximum speed, with no passengers, I think the jet would win."

"What about a De Havilland Mosquito?"

"The Mosquito was fast... But still, the jet would win."

"-Too bad... That one was made of wood, right?"

"A lot of it was, yes."

"Okay."

The droning of the engines filled the cabin, a microphone announcement came through from the driver's cockpit telling of stabilized flight- and small chatter buzzed up from some of the passengers.

Phillip reached over and held her paw through the glove covering it.

"So, what do you want to do on our 'Vacation', Fox'?" He smiled.

"I don't know. I think just relaxing would be nice, yes?"

"I agree. I'm sure Mangle will be ecstatic."

"What does she... Like... DO, while we're gone?"

"Besides ravaging all my iced tea in the garage and the fridge? Uhm... Watches T.V. I think she got into my old movies..."

"Is that bad or good?" She asked. "The last thing we need is her to get ideas..."

"It's fine. I think she's learned the borders of her behavior, to a degree."

"If you say so..."

"-Hey, the weirdy hasn't broken anything in a long time! I'm proud of her."

"Except the tea reserves for the tri-state area. Speaking of, where has all that been GOING?"

"What do you mean? She chugs it."

"I know... But... You know Mangle has a... Strange internal system, compared to me, right?"

"Well... Yeah, you don't have to eat."

"Neither does she." Foxy rolled her eyes flatly.

"Are you asking where she's taking a leak?"

"You're not letting her use the bathrooms are you?"

"...Oh my God."

There was a moment of purveying silence, and Phillip started to hunch over in realization.

"Oh my God. I'm now afraid."

"Fool."

"-Don't gimme none of that! I didn't even consider that! Oh jeez', it's gonna be a horror show at home!"

"Hope you have a good mop."

"-And a HAZMAT suit! And radiation scrubbers..."

"AND a Will."

"You're not helping."

"Tee-hee."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

When it was all said and done, 'Jobs' as he coined them- never slipped from either of their memories to the point where they could recollect nothing.

It was a few months ago- not too long, not too soon in the past -that they had stepped off a passenger bus on the outskirts of the town of Thetford, in East Anglia, in the United Kingdom.

He had been overjoyed at the sight of all the old buildings, the lush, forested landscapes and the red-double-deck buses that drove down the streets of London itself. He had been ecstatic to be in a place of such vibrant history.

To boot, Britain was filled to the brim with relics and locations directly tied to the Second World War- so he _and_ her, both drooled over the possibilities for sightseeing, for information, for simply experiencing it all...

But they both put all of that aside.

They both disregarded their wants, and put forth a 'Priority' of sorts.

This priority, was deemed the closest thing they could achieve to better the world.

The town of Thetford was their landing and staging point- at the height of the afternoon, Phillip Linn and Foxy began to walk through the thinnest outskirts to the north of the urban developments- they were quiet, and collected, the entire way.

Both dueled with the alien feeling of being in this foreign land for all the WRONG reasons, as the mainstream person would point out -they both were like moving statues, because they knew exactly what to do, and when.

By this point, a few of these 'Hits' had been undertaken. Foxy undid one of her gloves- struggling with the layered coats about her body -pressed into barely-visible bolts that sided on both curves of her wrist.

Her own paw popped off like an extension of say a vacuum cleaner, or a gun's additive customization.

She stuffed it in her clothes, pulled out a metallic curve of metal, and screwed it into the palm's place on her arm.

Paved roads became thinner, trees taller, soon in the outskirts was a major port overlooking the waters of the Atlantic Ocean- and the two were far from that great city in the woodlands, combing the terrain.

Phillip and Foxy had no specific idea of where exactly their quarry was.

So they trekked the entirety of two neighborhoods, a few farms, and by the time they had an inkling of the target's home- they were exhausted from the travel.

Matted in sweat, Phil stopped them mid-stride on a dirt path between rows of thickets.

"It's maybe a mile from here." He said.

They camped on the side of the road for a few hours- a farmer drove by in a pickup truck, asked them if they were having car trouble or such, and was waved away by Phillip as he told some ludicrous lie.

The two walked again after Phillip caught his breath- they passed through a small village, where a drunken man stepped out of a tavern, and followed them down a road with beckoning to Foxy's layered clothing.

Foxy ignored him, and Phillip told him to leave.

Of course, not in his right mind- the drunk walked over and grabbed at Foxy's back.

Phillip reared his fist and clocked the man right in the temple with one of the fiercest side-winds she had ever seen from him.

The man collapsed, Phillip dragged him over to a stoop and propped him up on it, and they both traveled once more. Foxy pecked him on the cheek, and he didn't respond with any kind of confirmation to her appreciation.

The forest consumed around them for the last time this trip. For a good while, the forests of this section of East Anglia provided nothing short of hooting owls, and a single coyote's cry.

Then, an abomination- a hound of shadow and titanium white eyes- the Old Shuck -burst out to meet them.

It swatted Foxy away like an insect, it tackled Phillip and opened its several rows of daggered teeth over his head.

The beast was unbelievably imposing.

On all fours it stood nearly six feet tall- its back arched high over its ragged ears and neck-base, black fur that wavered in the air like liquid onyx fire cascaded all down its paws and body.

"I've never had prey COME to me before..." It whispered to him. "-I LIKE you..."

Foxy jumped on its back- Phillip kicked away. The fight lasted a half hour. She wounded it, and it fled deeper into the woods.

So they chased it.

-And they found it.

This time, Phil got the first jump- they surprised it in a hill-dip, leaping over a mound of brush to descend on it below.

"Humans have NEVER bested me!" The Shuck screamed. "You aren't one of them!"

It gazed at Foxy at last, having been stabbed, sliced, blunted, and beaten to a bloody mess on the grassy ground.

"-Abomination..." It spat. "-You can't destroy us legion."

"I'm betting on it."

Foxy edged back in shock when Phillip ran up and started stepping on the hound's head with the heel of his boot- bringing down his foot in stamping arcs repeatedly.

 ** _THMP_**

 ** _THMP_**

 ** _THMP_**

-He paused, changed legs.

 ** _THMP THMP THMP_**

 ** _THMP_**

Foxy listened to the pattern of impacts until the hound stopped moving, and the legend of the Black Shuck was put to rest. Literally, and permanently.

"Phillip..." She muttered. "-That was..."

He looked at her with an angry glint in his eye, blankly.

She relented, opened her mouth to speak again, and only got out-

"I don't know what that was."

Phillip just shrugged.

-Much less to say, they never talked about East Anglia a lot. In fact a month later, one time she thought about it profusely on a chilly Wednesday morning, and she started to cry.

Phillip was over to her immediately, and started rubbing his hands down her back.

"What's wrong?" He asked urgently. "What happened?"

"-Y-You bludgeoned that thing..." She said. "-And I don't know w-why I'm just getting that out now!"

Foxy never heard it from him, or from the body language of their daily lives, and yet she had the unspoken knowledge that he never forgave himself for eliciting that reaction from her.

At night, he would apologize to her again, and again, and it would find a way into his speech for a third or sometimes _fourth_ instance.

"Foxy, I'm sorry I made you upset."

"-You didn't DO anything... I've, just, you know... I've seen that kind of violence when it was directed at the wrong people. It's not you."

"It was brash." He drawled. "It was barbaric, and it was beneath me. You don't deserve to be exposed to those things."

"The past is the past, yes?"

"Maybe. But when you don't heed the past, it repeats itself..."

"Well... YEAH. B-But that's not a concern here, Phillip."

"I'm concerned with MYSELF Fox'." He said. "I'm fixated on a dangerous thing."

"Well that's why you have me." She smiled, sifting through blankets to kneed her paws into his bare shoulder. "You're doing a heroic thing."

"But what are heroics, if I hurt those I care about?" Phillip frowned, slumping forwards to place his chin in upwards-angled palms.

Foxy flexed her fingers, sighed, and scooted over to lean her chest on him.

"That tends to happen when two people hold hands and jump." She spoke with her chin on his neck.

Phil raised a brow, and shook his head in some measure of agreement.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

 **It's a Brand New Sunny, Dark Day.**

* * *

 ** _"When in doubt- Forget rhymes, and go check your video feeds."_**

 **-Writ 105 of Surveillance.**

* * *

Foxy had fallen asleep on the flight back home.

The lulling of the plane's gradually, and weakly shifting turns and banks through air shafting worked in conjunction with her plastered stare outside the window to the passing ocean below.

The endless span of blue cascaded under the triangular sheen of the sun's reflection in a brilliant light show outside the cabin. From the height in the clouds, the white strip of borderland between continental green and ocean aqua began to appear.

Blinking a few times beneath the hoods, she roused from the deliberate nap, and watched with slit vision the beginnings of North America slide underneath the belly of the plane.

Hours of flying, and she had grown bored.

Phillip always tried to keep her active whenever they had to sit in one place for a very long time- he would try to find something to keep her talking, not to let the silence buzz in the air. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes, she just passed out.

-This time, she passed out.

Go figure.

"-Are we almost there...?" She muttered.

"Back from the dead!" Phil replied excitedly from the adjacent seat- pocketing his phone. "-Maybe another half-hour, yep."

"I want to go home."

"I want to go home too, believe me."

"Your car's at the garage, right Phil?"

"Yes. The junker's all prepped..."

"You still call it a 'Junker'," She mused. "When are you gonna' fix it?"

"I dunno." Phillip shrugged as she leant back into the seat with a hollow yawn.

Clenching her chops for a muscle stretch- she looked at him under all the clothes with a bright glint in her yellow eyes, besides the physical glow they took on in the dark.

This was very exciting to her, she would get to have a whole month of literally _nothing_ to do, it was a dream!

Phil always found them jobs to take up, and when they weren't in some foreign land, he was always off planning, or creating. She would create too, just on paper, and she wasn't as connected with the whole 'Hit-Outline' Phil always made up.

The bottom line was, she would make time, and she believed Phillip would make time.

-But, even through that confidence, she asked anyway.

"Are you going to allow yourself some freedom, Phillip?" She queried.

"ALLOW myself?" He laughed. "I- Uhm... Oh," He understood her insinuating. "-Oh well, then yes."

"I want to spend time with you. It's hard to do that during most of the month."

"You're right... You're right, and I'm the cause of that."

"No-no, Phil," She caught herself apologetically. "-You aren't CAUSING anything. This job we have is important, it takes dedication, I understand that."

"...Dedication or not, I feel a little wrong about it, I guess." He shrugged.

"Please don't."

"We'll have to figure out something quality-like."

"That sounds good."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

Parking garages always gave her the chills.

She didn't really have an exact reason why they did- nothing had ever happened in a traumatic sense near or in one.

But the endless halls of silent, driverless cars highlighted under isolated cones of white light from gridded fixtures on the ceiling- with the occasional echo of distant footsteps from your own... It gave her the heeby-jeebies.

Folding her arms, she shuddered under the unwelcome brush of lowered temperature that New York had been embraced in for months accordingly. She glanced over her shoulder whenever the drum of a passing car ricocheted down the stone structure.

Phillip reached over and veered her out of the open path that divided the parking sections- paranoid of a fast motorist not paying attention or something.

"Where did you park?" Foxy asked in a sigh. "We've been walking for awhile."

"I parked in C Section, row 90." He specified.

He saw her confused angling of her head beneath the hoods of her coats, and shrugged.

"The airports label all the different white lines that the cars park between. Kind of like how spots are colored in parking lots? Remember?"

"Red for employees, blue for handicap sort of thing?"

"Similar."

"Alright."

"There she is! The old beaut'!"

Phil raised his hand in a presentation-giving up-face of his palm.

Foxy smiled in a little feeling of home hitting her after a week in Europe- the same blue-colored Ford car that Phillip had saved all of them in at least three or four times, was snug between a black minivan and a red SUV.

It stuck out like a sore-thumb in the rows of cars- dull, chipped paint contrasting with passenger doors colored a lighter aqua-hue.

During some antic they'd had in the local area- seeing as not all their targets had been foreign -Phil's car had lost the _other_ door back there. And no, strangely it wasn't Mangle that did that.

That might have happened with the job in Jersey...

So Foxy asked as they stood on either side of the vehicle.

"-What happened to the other passenger door again?"

Phillip looked blankly at her over the car's roof, opened the door with his eyes still locked on her, and scrunched his brow in thought.

After a second, he snapped his fingers and said plainly-

"'Jersey."

"-Thought so..." She tsked.

Phillip almost shot out of the space when he started the car up and began to reverse- taking a good while to adjust to his own vehicle after seven or so days of driving a German van around.

Laughing at his own error- he switched gears and hummed towards the exit of the garage.

Foxy did her best to slide down into the seat as a pile of clothes when Phil opened his window to hand his parking ticket to the toll-booth at the exit archway from the garage.

She heard a few 'Have a nice day's, and they were soon exiting the airport to drive onto a long serviceway- both sides of the road ringed with trees, and an open field to their right as the furthest outskirts of the tarmac began to recede.

Foxy watched out the passenger side rear view as the airport shrank, and Phillip sped on the relatively clear road to reach the highway- which then would be taken to _another_ service road, and then finally -to the forested parkway that they both knew to Phillip's urban development.

"Being even on the outskirts of New York city always made me nervous." He admitted. "Taxi drivers are something else, I'll tell ya'..."

It seemed a bit of Austria had followed them- it looked like night outside with dark, dreary clouds hanging over the entire road.

Reaching up to shove the hoods off her head- Foxy's ears flicked back to their usual stance, and she smiled at the brushing sensation the movement gave her. Finding preoccupation with a general glazed over fixation on the road ahead, she leant back into the seat and started to shut her eyes.

She remembered the story that Phillip had told her a handful of times, she was reminded of it hence the setting she sat in.

"How long are we driving again?"

"A few hours."

"I can see why you used to fall asleep as a baby in your father's car." She pointed out.

Phillip grinned heavily at that, almost stupidly.

"Yeah..." He responded, trailing. "-I miss dad."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's all good. And, hey- I thought you CHOSE when you wanted to... Not sleep, 'Shut Down', right?"

"Sort of." She shrugged. "I can still feel wear on my systems, like you would get... Drow... Drow-something, what's the word?"

"Drowsiness."

"Yes."

"What causes wear besides just being active?"

"I mean, I'm not totally dictated by the machinery," She said. "I told you that."

"I know. You never got into specifics with that part."

"You know what..."

"What?"

"There's a lot of things we still haven't... Talked about, yes?"

"If there is, there isn't much..."

"You're right. But that small amount might be really important."

"...We've been talking about our time this vacation, why not use a night or two just to open the deepest darkest secrets of our pasts, huh?"

"'Deepest' and 'Darkest'?" She snickered. "You're funny."

"It keeps you around."

"Many things about you 'Keep me around.'"

"Fox', you ever think about drawing my book covers?"

"That's... A switch..." She brightened up. "-And that sounds like a good idea."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

This new body, his current incarnation- it blew chunks.

He _hated_ it.

His own bulkiness was getting on his nerves- centuries of riling his temper with the antics of the hunt had chiseled his inability to hold patience to the point of finding fault with the smallest of infractions.

Besides- the amount of noise he made was just unsavory.

Shrap was always one for brute-force, but he usually preferred having an option to keep that force suppressed when he needed- at least for a while.

Whatever his older physical form was a few decades ago had been lost to his constantly shifting and evolving memory- but whatever it had been, it had allowed him to traverse terrain more quietly.

This was why Shrap had a healthy trust, meshed with a healthy dislike of his ringleader per-say.

Flintlock was a conniving individual- for untold ages he had swindled his way through the ranks of infamy- and it became common knowledge that whenever that rat garnered a new trophy or a new title, some other Demon was either dead or hopelessly left to rot in some pit of the world.

Where Flintlock prospered, his kin- and the enemies of his kin alike -suffered.

It was no hidden sight within the barriers of discussion in the underworld of a community they had- that many, if not every single Demon _except_ Shrap, had such a problem with the guy that they wouldn't even go near him.

There were others of their species- particularly leaderless rovers -that were absolutely driven by ten times the madness they spread, and even _they_ wouldn't be caught in some negotiation or alliance with Flint'.

Shrap had even been hoodwinked a bit- he hadn't planned on rematerializing into the mortal world for another year before Flintlock claimed he had found a 'Perfect Vessel' for him to rampage in.

Of course, Shrap wasn't stupid- he felt around the Aether, he pried his fingers into the place Flintlock spoke of, and the recognition of a mechanical piece of equipment ripe for possession had wormed into his mind.

-The problem was, that piece of equipment, was what Flintlock was already using as a vessel.

Flintlock masked his body's signal as 'Already Taken' -per say- lured naive Shrap right into the net, where he wound up expending energy that would take decades to regain, possessing a freakin' chunk of pavement.

-The other metal stuff was just a group of later additions to his mass after he calmed down.

Yet of course, the reasoning for even _needing_ to calm down- was because his rage had made him vault at his 'Ally' in an attempt to slay him.

Obviously- seeing as the backstabbing scum was still active -Shrap's attempted murder failed.

Too add to his chastisement of his current form- his hulking frame did not allow him to match the speed and dexterity of his would-be leader.

Flintlock was like most lords in a physical sense- somehow, he was able to be lithe enough to dodge everything thrown at him, and strong enough to deal back crushing force.

"I think I see someone!" Flintlock- speak of the Devil -said excitedly. "What do you think? A good kill for the road?"

"We've been here long enough, don't you think the apes will get suspicious?"

"We've spread enough dissent," Flint' reasoned with a crane of his head behind him. "Another murder out of the- what? Three or four? That have taken place in this development in the last few days? Won't go overlooked, or over-exaggerated."

"If you say so..."

"Ooo! I'm excited! You?"

Shrap just shrugged with a sliding of stone.

Turning back to view down the darkened street- Flintlock peered over an alleyway's corner down to a single streetlamp whose cone of light in the sea of shadow barely lit up two pairs of shoes.

These two men were gang members- or at least, they considered themselves to be -they both could tap into the Aether enough to grab hold of _some_ information from the mortals they targeted.

They were dressed in hoods, dark clothing, skinny figures- comically, their clothes were hung and baggy.

Chuckling, Flintlock clasped his claws together.

"You get the one by the pole..." He ordered.

"Some pleasantry at least."

"Let's do the usual."

"Get in there already..."

"Pushy. You know that?"

"GO, please..."

 ** _FWP_**

Flintlock vanished in a blur of smudged black that slowly wormed down the street ahead of the alley.

Shrap took one step and released a loud thud from his stone cloven heel.

Growling in annoyance, he started to trudge down the sidewalk towards the street lamp- laughing a bit when their prey stood straight up, like rodents about to be descended upon by a hawk.

One of them grabbed something from his pocket- and at that second, Flintlock's reality-distorting bubble of energy popped in between the two men- the Demon stood there and grinned at them with the rows of metal teeth in his serpentine maw.

"How are ya'?" He asked.

"-SHIT!" The one human yelped- swinging out with his wrist with a blade in tow.

It was effortless- Shrap knew that. This was only stress relief, a little blood always tempered their minds.

The blade- and, presumably the human's hand and wrist -skittered and dashed away on the street in a fleck of movement, trails of crimson drawing out from the ragged stump.

The man screamed femininely- grabbing his wrist with the still-in-tact other palm.

He was lifted up and Flintlock dipped his jaws to his throat when the other guy bolted, and ran right into the street that Shrap stood in.

The hood flew off the man's head as Shrap reared back with both of his blocky fists, casting off a breeze. The shocked human stood rigid, arms raised, knees bent- unable to move before he disappeared in a whiz of blurred air.

The fist-slam utterly eviscerated the street-lurker's form- his body folding like an origami piece under the weight of a descending textbook- he flattened to the pavement with a **_CLK_** and the very street buckled under the hit with a thudding impact.

Dust was kicked up, Shrap raised his palms and savored the black-hued drip that cascaded from the flat undersides.

"-A-HA! Woo!" Flintlock cried wetly- tearing away the corpse from his mouth with a following contrail of sinewy material, the dead man flopped onto the concrete- half of his throat gone in the place of a red trench.

"Are we good now?" Shrap asked with as much disinterest as his satisfied blood-lust would allow.

"We are BEAUTIFUL!" Flint' dragged his forearm down the front of his chops with a slide of steel. "I love this city!"

"It's not really a CITY."

"It's populated! That's all I care about. 'Think there's more?"

"We should stop for tonight-"

"Ohmygod! H-Holycrap!"

Flintlock wheeled his head over to a flailing human- dressed similarly to their victims.

"-A-Aw hell-!"

"There ARE more! MINE!"

Shrap didn't even bother trying to stop him- Flintlock vanished in his shadowy bubble of distorted space and time.

The human ran- and a dark figure appeared right in front of him.

He screamed for a full two seconds before he was lifted up, and he lost his own head to scream _with_.

Flintlock threw the two pieces away, and stamped his four feet into the spatter he'd made on the concrete below him.

"Haha! Ha! HA!"

"Are you satisfied now?" Shrap muttered.

"VERY! Very satisfied!"

"Good. I'm leaving without you."

"-Woo... N-Now hold on there, buddy... Just give me a second."

"ONE."

"-Fine! A MINUTE. Eh?"

"Hurry up."

"We got time! Quit worrying, and kill some cattle."

"I did."

"ONE." Flintlock parroted. "One, and only ONE."

"I'm placated."

"-Damn you 'Influence' types..."

"Just because I don't reap death directly doesn't mean I don't cause it. I'm only in this form because you LIED to me."

"I improvised." Flintlock smiled, red staining his jaws and claws. "You're a kill-joy. Let's go, c'mon."

"Where too next?"

"-There's new, in old." The other explained happily. "I've found a location to gather some power for ourselves. Some help maybe."

"Hell knows we could use that..."

"Hell knows, but doesn't care."

"You're the only bastard in history to have pissed off your birthright."

"Only so far, hopefully not the last."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

He'd only been gone a few weeks- a week and a half, a week and a quarter, maybe, it didn't matter specifically -and the extended strip of dark pavement, unmarked by street chalk or paint, and devoid of anything but a bunch of woodland obscured homes- seemed like a blast from some past life.

His own home was becoming something of a forlorn retreat- a place to curl up in, forgot about all kinds of pressing stress and troubles, and to just pass time away with no real point or passion.

Sometimes, just atrophying in the house was the solution he had found for the brief bouts of depression experienced even after the major crash from his father dying. For all the pleasant memories the house induced, and all the calm days it harbored with him- Phillip Linn's place of establishment was a little looming.

He could practically feel the presence of the little structure as the Ford grumbled down a last bit of road- the impending shadow of good and bad that made his emotions swirl in both directions.

It was like he had never left. The short lack of sidewalk that divided his lawn from the street- the bland, properly kept grass and front porch- it crept in from the front of his windshield and into the passenger window.

Looking at his home past Foxy- Phil for once, felt a smile, instead of a straight line- forcing itself onto his lips.

Foxy stared at the place too- she tapped her fingers- five on the dashboard in front of her, and the other five on the handle of the door. He trained his eyes on the back of her furred head- as he couldn't read her expression.

It was probably really weird for her too. This place meant a lot to both of them- more so Phil, obviously, and it was like they lived more _away_ from the house then in it.

Taking a second to put a buffer on his swimming thoughts- Phil cleared his throat, keeping his foot on the brake.

"-Well," He sighed. "Home it is."

"...Mmm..." Foxy hummed. "I miss this house a lot."

"Good thing we're here to stay this time, yes?"

"Yes."

"I'm gonna' do my best to put aside the work," He stated. "We'll figure out something nice to do."

"Alright." She smiled back at him.

Phil unclenched the brake pedal- let the car roll, and turned to pull into the driveway with crumbling, faint crunches coming from the wheels.

He put the car in park with a pull on the clutch- and unlocked his door to slowly push it open.

The scent of wet greenery, dew, and wood hit his nose like a freight train- it made him blink, and it immediately declined any further lower thought of the situation.

He was home. He was going to have a nice break with his best friend. He needed to stop being so negative.

Phillip had actually ensured they took longer on the return trip from the airport- as he didn't take the same entrance onto the county highway that he had known for so long. Going closer to a certain entrance made it that they had to drive by the exit that was home to the still-vacant lot that haunted them.

And, for the sake of Foxy- he wouldn't have had as much a problem with it other than fixating- he avoided going by that patch of woods at any cost.

But, having used everything in his power to keep off the grounds of what had joined him and his current group of acquaintances- he strolled around the front of the car after closing his end with a hollow clack.

Thankfully- it was still pretty dreary out, at least Foxy could move without much difficulty.

He opened the door for her, and gestured for her exit.

"Madam?" He put on his worst French accent. "'Would one care for some cuisine? Hua-hua!"

"Ha-ha! Phil, you weirdo," She laughed at him, hopping from the car's seat. "We were in the Fatherland last I checked."

"Hua! Fatherland, Frenchland, Duestchland, what's the difference, madam'?" Phil persisted.

Foxy keeled over in her laughter enough to omit a snort, and cuffed his shoulder weakly as she did so.

"PHIL, ha-stop!" She was balling. "-You made me SNORT."

"That was ze' goal, madam."

"You're horrible."

"No, I am- macho-macho man!"

"Oh you're something..." She finished, leaning on his side with her shoulder. "-I don't know what'd I'd do without you."

"'Vell, that is good to he'a!"

"You just switched to German."

"Oh, poop-" Phil snapped his fingers. "-I could never hold ONE act for long I guess."

"Mm."

"Now," Phillip stepped away- clicking the lock button on his keys a few times- he reached over to the side corner of the garage, and shifted a plastic pale out of the way with a grind on the pavement.

Watching him curiously, Foxy squinted when he came back with an aluminum lid- for a garbage pale, of different make than the one it was hidden behind.

"-I'm all prepared." He stated.

"...That's... For... WHAT, precisely?"

"Mangle. Of course."

"Oh... Good idea."

"Yyyyeeepp."

She followed him as he slung the pale lid under one of his arms, and fiddled his house key free from the car keys in a hop up onto the porch before the front door.

Foxy watched with a grin when Phillip listened at the door for a second, muttered a faked prayer- and slipped the key into the lock. He turned, and the front entrance to his home squeaked as it opened for the first time in weeks.

With an echo inside the dark house- Phillip practically scrambled to get the metal garbage pale lid up- and he entered his own home like a Roman Cohort advanced on firing archers- shields up, heads down.

"What ARE you doing?" Foxy chuckled, shouldering past him into the dark foyer of the house. She reached over and flicked a lamp on one of the endtables to illuminate the room.

"I told Mangle to cut it out with the tackling crap," Phil muttered in a gaze to the stairwell that lead to the second floor, and then to the corner of the barely visible T.V. room. "I said if she kept it up- I'd come prepared."

"I think she got it though, don't you? I mean, look at the place!" Foxy marveled, drawing the finger of her right paw down the side of the lampshade she hovered near. "Not a sliver of dust. Mangle's become a good house-keeper, huh?"

"You'll never let her live that down, will you?"

"Midwife Mangle," Foxy reminded humorously. "Phil, I think you're safe-"

 ** _BM BM BM BM_**

 ** _BMMHMHMM_**

"-WAAHHH! ... Woo... WOO! ... Uhm-" A door was thrown open with an echoing clack. **_SSSHHK-BMM_** "-WOOO!"

 ** _BMBMBMBM_**

 ** _BM BM_**

 ** _B-DUM_**

"PHHHHIILLLLLLYYYYY-KIIIIINNNNSSSSSS!"

Foxy was almost deafened by the sheer volume at which the horrific scream was belted forth from the top of the stairs- all in a single blur of movement, a white-tipped torpedo spiraled down the flight like a tornado with its spout pointed ahead instead of up.

Arms extended- and pipes flailing everywhere- Phillip saw the hurdling disaster heading straight in his angle- held the aluminum trash lid up, and fell to a single knee.

"-PHHHIILLLLYYY-" **_CLANG_**

Mangle's shrill outcry was cut short- and the animatronic hung suspended in a half-compressed flat to the garbage can lid, and collapsed onto the floor of the foyer with a clattering of what sounded like empty cans.

"-OW!" She cried, reaching up with a spare foot to rub her metal nose. "Why Philly-kins defend self?!"

"'Philly-kins' doesn't like having his neck broken!" Phillip snapped. "Ha! Take THAT! I warned you."

"He obviously warned you, Mangle." Foxy chuckled to the splayed mess that the other animatronic lay in on the floor.

Mangle had changed even less so than Phil or Foxy did over the last few cycles of time. She still had the white-furred vulpine head, the makeup like details, the one missing eye in place for a small violet light in the center.

Still rubbing her nose- Mangle looked at the two of them, and then finally at Phil, and started making a sniffling noise.

"* _sniff* *sniff*_ P-Philly, MEAN to me!" She choked. "Me gonna' CRY!"

"Oh my God! NO! Don't do THAT- anything but THAT!" Phil panicked, tossed away the garbage pale lid- and bent down to attempt and scoop the Mangle up.

-Instead, all that wound up happening from that was the Mangle zipping forwards like a bullet, and catapulting herself into a collision with Phillip's chest area.

He flew back- like he was being tackled by the world's fastest football player- human and animatronic assailant crashed off the foyer wall with a thud that rumbled the whole house.

"-OW..." Phil croaked under the compressing mess of pipes encircling his form. "-MANGLE... WHY?"

"Silly Philly-kins! Me fib!"

"I can tell..."

"Emperor Philly-kins home!"

Foxy leant back against the endtable with a smile as this transpired.

She gazed at the stairs, and into the hallway down on the current level into the kitchen and subsequent T.V. room.

It was certainly nice to be back home.

Even if Mangle was still the whackjob she had always been- it would've been weird with a 'Normal' Mangle anyhow.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

 **Anonymous.**

* * *

 ** _"If a trespasser begs for their life- consider them not only a disgrace to the ways of security occupations, but cowards as well. Purge accordingly."_**

 **-Writ 109 of Surveillance.**

* * *

Surprisingly- Mangle had not destroyed a single thing in the house while they were gone.

Not a single thing. Nothing. Nada'.

It was great news.

...But, come on- it was _Mangle_ in question here. Something had to be broken somewhere.

Phillip proceeded to call bluff on it, and doubt what he was being told. He scoured the property through every crease, crevice, crag, hide space, and corner he could think of.

He checked the closet in his bedroom, the pantries and drawers in the kitchen, the cabinets in the T.V. room, under all the furniture, around all the furniture, in the garage- and the worst thing he found were a bunch of dust bunnies and a million year old paper clip.

But other than that- Mangle had done nothing even remotely apocalyptic.

Phillip had braved checking under the toilet seats in both bathrooms of his house- and again, was astonished that his very head had not been vaporized by some reserve of radioactive poo.

Mangle hadn't made any radioactive poo.

 _Manglr_. The last year and half had indeed, changed her a bit for the better.

He supposed, at the end of the day- that was because she was more social than she had ever been. Every day, Mangle basically had the comfort of going into rest mode every night, and waking up when she pleased to a house filled with two people who were friends with her.

Mangle had never gotten that deal in her entire life.

When she first reemerged into the world, Mangle was even more shrill than she currently was- she was bracketed from reality by a blurred sense of nostalgia for her old acquaintanceship with Foxy and Matt- and that made her very childish.

Mangle had coped with the negative depression welling up and around inside her by acting completely like- in blunt, non elaborate terms -a _child_. She had been driven a little insane by the whole thing- and that was permanent, there was no away around what she had been molded into.

But Phillip preferred her that way. Mangle could control herself- she wasn't erratic, she wasn't violent -(if you didn't count the occasional excitement that ended in a little collateral damage of glass items)- she wasn't using her tough hide and her unnatural strength to hurt anybody.

Mangle was loud, noisy, and nosey- but she had a good soul. He couldn't necessarily say a 'Good Heart' because, physically- she didn't really _have_ one -but the point was clear as day.

Yes, Mangle was a whackjob, but she was a good whackjob. She needed support, that was what mattered.

Hours into their time home- Mangle still had not uncurled from Phil's body- she was toted around a silvery bundle over him wherever he walked, or sat.

Phil took a nap for an hour- and woke up with Mangle draped over his lap, snoring. He quietly thought he had escaped- and was just checking his banking on his laptop when a presence slowly crept up to wrap around his body from the seat of the chair.

Phillip had gazed down, and Mangle just drowsily yawned at him as if saying- 'Did you think I wasn't supposed to be here?'

Mangle hadn't gone on _any_ of the freelance 'Hunts' that he and Foxy had gone on- and that was by her own choice.

When Phillip had told her about what he and Foxy were planning on doing- he would never forget the reaction -she had stopped whatever she was busying herself with, and had just... _looked_ at him blankly.

Mangle asked if they were going to find more of the creatures like the ones at that dreaded pizzeria- and Phil answered her in a 'Yes.'

For a week, Mangle didn't really talk to either one of them. She was silent. It was the longest she had been silent in one place- or at all -in her entire life.

Phillip checked the bathroom one night all this time ago- and found a black stain that had extended from the kitchen floor, all the way to fleck at the rug to the T.V. room carpet.

At first- disgusted -he knew Foxy didn't do it, and sought out Mangle for an explanation. It turned out, she had vomited.

Apparently- on the night he had told her about his plans -she had climbed over the fence of the backyard, and vomited there too. Mangle still didn't talk to them when they went on their first trips- and whenever Phillip came home, Mangle would latch to him, and wouldn't let go for sometimes three or four days.

This return trip- who knew, Mangle may not leave him alone for the same amount of time.

Running a hand down his face- Phil was sweaty, and he was hot. The bad weather had cleared today- he was outside, getting rid of all kinds of weeds and crab grass that had started taking over the edges of the front yard.

Normally yard work made him feel nothing but tired- but today, it was a bit of a funnel for some of the stress. Even when he was successful in his goals with these freelance trips around the world- they still filled him with a keen uncertainty.

Though, he had to reason it better than the uncertainty of him doing nothing. _That_ , would be hard to cope with every day.

He drained a bottle of lemonade with a final swig, and tossed the plastic piece into the rear of the garage where a recycle bin was to consume it.

Sitting on one of the plastic fold chairs from the garage's shelves- Phillip observed his cleaner looking grass of the front lawn from his position just inside the open garage, he grinned at the reflection on the hood of his Ford.

"Good day," He said aloud, reaching down by his hip to pat Mangle's head- and remembered that nothing but air was there. "Mangle?"

Turning in a crane over the back of his chair- Phillip saw the animatronic piled on the floor of the garage, looking at him with her usual grin.

He marveled at how sunlight was practically beaming off of her fur and pipes, and she was completely unfazed.

"Hiiiiiiii, Philly." She waved with a foot, meekly.

"Why are you sitting back there?"

"You stinkies."

"I gave you a house- and you can't deal with the stank, huh?" Unbelievable. The irony. He had hives when she wouldn't stop touching him- and he felt weird when she DID stop touching him.

"But you smell like skunk on pot bummer day!"

"'Hot Summer Day'," He corrected with a laugh. "I'm not THAT bad."

"Mmmhmm!" Mangle shook her head in affirmative. "Philly-kins wreak!"

"That's not nice."

"-Facty-wul!"

"Indeed."

"Where you and Foxxxyyyy' go this time?"

"Austria."

"OoooOOOooo! Ostridge land!"

"No-no, not... Nevermind. YES, we went there."

"Beat bad guys?"

"We did."

"Yay!"

"So, Mangle, you still haven't told me what you were doing while we were gone."

"Ummm... Me make sandwich, me make tea... Me watch T.V... And me make tea."

"Anything else?"

"Me dusteez everything with feathery thingy... Me use vacuum cleanerz... Me make tea..."

"So, pretty average stuff?"

"Yeah! Average stuff-n-nuff'!"

"That's good."

"Me think so. Me think Philly needs bath!"

"-Oh, C'MON, is it THAT bad?"

"Smell like barn in here!"

"-HA! Where'd you hear that?"

"T.V."

"Mangle, do me a favor, don't repeat anything you hear on T.V. anymore, okay? But that was funny."

"But me like T.V. words!"

"Yes well, please don't-"

"-Like- 'Tonight, on da' TWI-WHITE ZONES!'"

"-Oh, JEEZ," Phillip snickered. "-W-Wait-HA! Oh, yo, that's unbelievable-"

"-Or like- 'FWASH I WUVS YOU! But we'z only got twenty-doors to save the Earth!"

"What have you been watching this whole time?"

"-Or- 'The slaveez are revolting?! Jupiter's C-"

"-NOPE! DON'T, say THAT!" Phil cut her off quickly. "There's the kind of stuff I don't need you screaming all over the place."

Mangle looked at him funny from the concrete of the garage's ground- she cutely cocked her head a bit to side, a trademark with her- and settled for giving a bored sniff.

"Mmmkay!" She grinned.

Phillip sat back in the chair snickering at her.

-Like he could relent- Mangle was mentally, a train-wreck- but she had a good soul, and boy was she funny.

The chair creaked as he stretched his back over the foldable piece- he watched the sunlit afternoon with squinted eyes to get around the glare. His street was clear today- the forest directly in front of his view was stilled, and beams of gold were shooting through the canopy in places.

Mangle ducked to the ground lower when a car passed down the street from the east- and Phillip ridged his lipline at it in feeling bad that he still had to hide his buddies from other people after all this time. He found it very sad that he had to do so.

A grumbling, little engine came pattering up from the road in the other angle the previous vehicle had gone- and Phillip nodded for Mangle to go deeper into the garage in case it was who Phil thought it was.

No sooner than did the little whackjob vanish behind him into a shelving unit- did the white truck of the mailman roll up, and the pudgy guy in the blue uniform leant out the driver's seat to pull open the door on Phil's mailbox.

He came back with a small collection of letters, saw Phillip standing from the garage- and waved at him.

"Hello, Mr. Linn! Back from your trip?" He asked as Phil closed the distance to hang over the rear of his mailbox.

"Hey Hank," Phil took the letters. "-Yep, I'm back. Good to be back."

"Good to see ya', Mr. Linn."

"Good to see you too, Hank."

"Have a nice one."

"Same."

Turning around to flick through the letters- Phil found another wad of bills -cheeky stuff that just made him absolutely DYING to open them.

Sneering at today's corporate greed- he sifted over a yellow letter from the oil company, and found a peculiar stick out from the average bunch.

It was white, stamped and the whole nine-yards- the sender was listed as 'Cousin', and- 'To Mr. Linn.' his street and address was written under that.

"Cousin, huh?" He squinted down at the envelope, turning it in his hands a few times. Looking back at the street, and down it both ways, including seeing the distant white-box of the back of Hank's truck to the right- he started to peel the letter's top.

Unfolding the paper inside- Phil was granted a heavily inked scrawl of black words on the note- it was addressed from 'Anonymous'.

 _'You seek creatures you understand, but are underequipped to take on._

 _Understand the foe._

 _Go to Upstate. A place you find passion in._

 __Anonymous'_

-Oh, this had to be some kind of freakin' joke, right?

It had to be.

Or a wrong address.

Or some stupid kid who liked messing with his neighbors or random house numbers. No way.

Phillip still had a complex expression of seriousness as he looked at the poorly folded, heavily ink-stained paper.

The writing looked... _old_ , like someone had taken one of those ink-well pens to make it. Phillip had certainly been exposed to enough weird stuff, perhaps this wasn't such an easy thing to just kick off the possibilities table.

But Phillip had said to not only himself- that the 'Job' could wait.

Obviously whoever sent this was a riddle-maker. So, they had to be pretty patient.

Tapping the paper against his palm- Phil heard Mangle still rummaging about in his garage, and stuffed the envelope and paper into his pants pocket. Struggling to crumple it in the jam- Phil walked right past Mangle as she uncurled from inside a shelf on the garage's inside flank.

"Philly-kins got mail!" She cheered. "Can me see?"

"I'm going to take a shower." He ignored, thumbing the button by the inside door to his house for the garage to close. "Come on, weirdy."

"YAY!" Mangle swung across the room, and vanished inside by his hip as the garage door creaked and jerked closed behind them.

As darkness faintly shaded the garage's interior- Phil found himself staring ahead glumly at the empty square of where his car would sit to be worked on, or during bad weather.

Rolling his jaw, he felt the weight in his pants pocket- and shut the door behind him.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

Doing his best to take his mind off of the recent interruption- Phil announced he was locking the bathroom door for a reason down the upstairs hall- shut the door, and threw off all the sweaty-smelling clothes he had been wearing.

It was already afternoon- and Phil really hadn't had a full 'Day' to speak of- because he and Foxy had slept in until 11 or so A.M.

After they walked in the door, Phillip ate some leftovers in the fridge, Foxy just turned herself off into recharging on the couch before the T.V., and without much conscious thought- Phillip dragged himself upstairs, changed into his boxers, and passed out in bed.

Mangle had known better than to try and harass them into otherwise activity- but when Phil had woken up at 11, Mangle was all over him.

"Me make us tea!"

"Philly? Can me use weedy-whacker!"

"Philly? What people look like in Germy Man?"

"Emperor Philly-kins should bake me cupcakes!"

-Oh, the despair.

Still, it was all too cute to really get mad at her.

He hadn't seen much of Foxy today in contrast- she had been wiped out from the long trip home from Austria, and as far as Phil was concerned, she was still out on the couch in the T.V. room where she had fled for her second nap of the day.

Nothing to blame there, really. They could start to figure out what they were going to do for relaxation tomorrow.

Letting the warm water seethe down his body and head- Phil stood under the nozzle of the shower with his eyes closed.

He started thinking.

He had so much adventure in his life- he got to go to all kinds of exotic places, of different culture, people, geography and language- in fact, a lot of the places he had gone to were rich in the kind of history he had always taken interest in.

It helped him to formulate things for his writing- it helped Foxy develop her arts, and she was getting so good with her new fingers in conjunction with the older ones.

Phil dwelled on Foxy for a little bit, and remembered the sort of strange tension she had brought up in Austria- the discussion of their relationship, all the things they did and didn't do.

Phillip treated her like a wife- there was no disparaging that. He bought her nice things, he kissed her, told her he loved her, slept in the same bed. The only things missing were commonality in species, years of time to solidify it all, sex, and an outer circle of friends and acquaintances.

What was stopping at least _some_ of that from happening already? Because, it was obvious what was making the prospect of friends and other people to socialize with impossible. The years would pass on their own, and, the difference in species really was just dumb to keep in the prospect of being problematic...

But the last part of it.

He knew what was stopping that. HE was stopping that.

It bothered him to think about it. Not just the physical parts of it- or, the _knowledge_ , of the physical parts of it... Phillip just saw so many things going wrong, or being awkward.

Foxy, of course, wasn't objecting or holding back from a thing- heck, if he just went with it one day, Foxy probably would've acted completely outlandish, and went at him like a rabbit.

He found the thought funny- he thought about the whole 'Rabbit' deal, and looked down at himself from the normal reaction to such mentality in men. Phil pressed his head into the front wall of the shower and stood watching himself- he knew it was odd, but as he just sat there contemplating in the warm water- he realized he was pretty old to still be in the 'Lacking of Action'-corner he was currently in.

Sure, there had been girls he'd laughed with and talked with in his younger age- but when dad had died, and the depression smacked him upside the head- the desire and ability to pursue relationships just faded away.

Phil saw himself down there, his reaction- and it made him feel exactly what he had been afraid of corrupting his thoughts on Foxy. _Awkward_. It felt weird. Morally, he knew it felt right- it _was_ right, he cared about Foxy immensely and she to him, it should've been normal for chemicals to start acting up.

But what people considered 'Normal' again, certainly did not apply here.

What if she was... Incompatible? Like, he understood the whole half-mechanical deal- but, what if there was something in her body that would hurt him? How would he deal with that? And how would he deal with taking that risk?

He saw the peppy response his body was giving start to subside- and he said to himself that this required a long talk- he'd have to get Foxy in private, and they'd have to start showing and telling. No other alternative. This game was getting childish and annoying- this wasn't high school, or college sweethearts crap.

Phil was a man, Foxy was- once more, despite commonality's frame of reference, of reality -a woman, and the hormones matched, the attitudes matched, the energy matched.

It was going to be a full two years and he still hadn't even _seen_ anything on her. This was a croc.

He showered quickly- filling the bathroom with mist, turning off the water- and cast aside the curtain to start working a towel over himself.

In the mirror- Phillip examined his jawline and his cheeks- he leant in to look into his own pupils.

"C'mon, Phil, what the hell are you doing?" He muttered. "Dad wouldn't want you to be miserable. He wouldn't care WHAT she was... Neither would anyone else up there."

Taking stock in what he was telling himself- it was another ten or so minutes before he slipped on a T-Shirt and pants, opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway upstairs. Instantly, he noticed the absence of his shadow- looked around, and figured that Mangle must have been off making tea, or flailing around the backyard.

Trudging down the steps- he ringed around to walk into the T.V. room, and found Foxy there- legs crossed, one over the other- she had a notepad and pencil in her grasp, she was scribbling with idle eyes, straight chops.

"What'chya got there?" He asked, stepping into the center of the room.

"Not sure yet." She shrugged, turning the pad around, to show him what looked like a fur pattern she had drawn- like the side of something furry's head.

"Are you drawing Chewbacca?"

"That hairy thing from Star Wars? No." She smiled. "I don't know what it is yet."

"Alright," He smiled and held a hand up. "-So- big week break, we have seven days to do whatever you want."

"-Whatever WE want, yes?"

"-Yes, sorry."

"Mmhmm. And?"

"Aaaaannnnddd... What do you wanna' do?"

She chuckled at him and set the pad and pencil down by the foot of the sofa, patting the cushion next to her.

"We could try watching a movie." She suggested, laying her chin on his shoulder as he sat and put an arm over her back. "-What about one of those old ones?"

"How old? I have all sorts." He muffled into the fur on top of her head.

"...Braveheart?"

"A little bloody, don't you think?"

"I'm game."

"Alright, any other possibilities?"

"Star Wars and your Chewbacca friend?"

"Maybe."

"Star TREK? The evil twin?"

"Trekkers would have a FIT, if they heard you say that."

"Fanbases were always noisy to me..."

"You wanna' watch Star Trek?"

"Why not?"

"Alright, sounds good to me."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

He decided, that he _liked_ trees.

They made good amounts of shadow- they were big, bushy, and they grew in clumps, which made hiding in and around them relatively easy.

Trees of any kind, really- suited those prerequisites for him- and the good news was, they were literally, _everywhere_ here.

From the outskirts of the town buildings and brief sprawls of houses and mobile homes- thin roads and unevenly spread highways saw limited traffic in the later hours of the day- which made the kind of travel Flintlock and Shrap needed all the more easier.

"I'm going to find the Tempest." Flintlock had briefed. "I don't care what the Higher Powers say to it."

"You're running the risk of starting a civil war," Shrap grumbled. "You know that, right?"

"That I do. All the better to clean our people's gene-pool with, don't you think?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, Flint', you'll run your show the way you will."

-And how _right_ Shrap was.

Understand- that Flintlock's 'People' the race of beings he was member of- could only access the material plane of existence, through either extreme ability of personal power, or through the use of ancient zones called 'Tempests'.

Beings like the monster Flintlock had replaced, had enough power to create their own Tempest zones- and that would've worked for Flint', but the Tempest had been destroyed in the fire that had burned the old establishment down.

Thus, Flintlock was left with only two choices- wait a few decades until he gained enough raw energy to do it himself, which by that point the human probably would've slain half of them- or, track down and take _another_ Tempest.

So far, the only Tempests he knew of on this continent- were in territories humanity dubbed- 'New York', 'Yukon', and 'Florida'. Flintlock was already in New York- so all he had to do was traverse miles and miles of wilderness filled with evergreen trees, and wild animals that pissed themselves and ran whenever he and Shrap came to view.

They'd met little to no resistance or trouble- they'd caused a few bits of chaos here and there- Flintlock hadn't tasted this much blood in centuries, despite his miniscule the total really was.

The closer they got to the location of the Tempest- the more they subconsciously could 'Feel' it, in a sense.

Like explained- Flintlock was not technically an 'Alpha' within the hierarchy, even though he commanded powers most of his kind would never even come close to achieving- he was no overlord or chief of any hellish army or legion.

Flintlock, at one time- _had_ more followers than just the hoodwinked brute that was Shrap- and, like the fiend he was- they all died to get him to his current position of power.

It was strange how time had morphed who he was.

From ragtag mob leader, to sole surviving, all powerful rogue. Interesting swap.

"Someone's probably taken the guard duty upon themselves," Shrap reminded from behind him- great legs sending thuds throughout the ground. "They aren't going to just let us use the Tempest."

"So I'll kill them. It's simple. If someone says- 'No'- I say 'Die', BAM, victory! I get what I came for."

"Who do you think will willingly come through that Tempest to serve YOU, Flint'? Think logically here."

"I want to contact the Fallen."

"...Flint', come ON."

"It's supposed to sound ludicrous, you imbecile!"

"The Fallen will laugh at you."

"No, he won't. He'll get READY, to scoff- and I will present to him the circumstances, my location and proximity."

"And then?"

"THAN, the Fallen will be drooling at the opportunities. Besides, I heard his nemesis is starting to screw around somewhere nearby too."

"That human's been dead for hundreds of years. I doubt that."

"Trust me, Abe's knockin'."

"If you say so."

"And if Abe's back- who knows, there could MORE of them back. What if that blond-haired asshole from Greece starts tearing the place up again? We gotta' ACT Shrap'!"

"You're saying, you want to form an alliance with as many still-living powerhouses, by reasoning all those that wronged them are converging at once?"

"Something big is happening, Shrap'- it's bigger than me or you, and it's bigger than the Higher Powers!" Flintlock listed. "The Fallen, Hades- they'll all be itching for action, I'll be the rally."

"-Say all these warriors follow you- say they help you win whatever it is you're trying to win... What makes you think they'll stay loyal to you? You'd just be a means to an end."

"I'm planning on that."

"And I- the pawn -can't be let in on that because I'm exactly that. A 'Pawn'."

"Precisely, glad you got the memo."

"Pompous bastard."

"Proud to be it," Flintlock chuckled, reptilian head craning over his shoulder. "Proud to be it."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6.**

 **Accessing the Old World.**

* * *

 ** _"If you're stuck in the Himalayas with your camera, and a helicopter comes for you with the drivers' claiming they have limited room- you know, which of you, that helicopter should be leaving with."_**

 **-Writ 111 of Surveillance.**

* * *

"-Starfleet was founded to seek out new life, well THERE it sits." Captain Jean Picard belted that out in the courtroom chamber, in his dominant tone, his words just melded, and silenced everyone in the room except for he.

Out of all the episodes they wound up flipping through- all the space fights, the amazing CGI (For the 80's), the diplomatic crises evaded by quick thinking and cunning, the freaky ridged foreheads of the Klingons, and the annoying confrontational tendencies of the Romulans- the courtroom scene, stood out the most for Phillip Linn.

Leaning back into the sofa's rear cushion- he started daydreaming about that moment in the episode, even when the episodes after that were excitedly turned on by his companion- he rewound it again and again.

There sat the character- 'Data' -silently, in his chair, listening to Picard not only defending his individual rights, but the rights of an entire cybernetic android workforce, and arguable race to be spawned from development off of him.

The situation resonated with him- it reminded him of real life -with all the fantastical, fabled things that had happened in his own days.

Phillip had gone to the ends of the Earth to hunt down creatures that were the birthplace of what humans termed nightmare and superstition born off the unrecognized fear of the Middle Ages, or the Colonial Imperialization.

-There was nobody on Earth, nobody in the world who could ever understand, or see what his life revolved around.

Thus, when Data and his defending captain came onto the screen of his television- Phil was intrigued, as, the last time he had watched these episodes of Star Trek had been when his father was alive. Now, years later- with his particular significant other next to him -the story of Data and freedom of rights in the Federation hit home harder than ever.

It was the most accurate summation of what he felt with Foxy, and her presentation to the rest of the world- that same thing that hadn't happened, and would probably never happen.

Since people didn't know who she was, what she was- no one could call her what Picard was arguing for Data in Star Trek- a person, a living, sentient being with the freedom of choice, the freedom to smile and frown and laugh and feel emotions.

People would call her a freak, a 'Mutant', or a 'Monster'- the fabric of which destroyed her self-esteem over the decades spent rotting away in that dreadful building years ago.

It was a combination of man's insight to destroy that of which he did not understand- and natural reaction to what media, culture, and other people told each other about and how they did so. Something like Foxy was alien to Earth.

And if Phillip could take anything from how people reacted to things unknown on their own planet- he could imagine the stupid, brash thinking that would occur on the subject of first contact with aliens.

Biting his lower lip lightly- he waited for the last episode they could handle to roll the credits, and he watched the star-laden background without word or commentary- realizing that he and Foxy had gone completely mute.

Looking over at her, he could see her eyes directly focused on the T.V. screen- yellow-lit, glowing, and that strange mesh of appearance between plastic and organic.

She blinked with a tiny click of her lids- gazed at him, and nodded at the television.

"...I, uhm... Haven't watched that in a year." She tried, smiling. "I didn't see past the first ten or so episodes."

"I haven't watched that since I was a kid." He said. "That certainly was cool to see after all this time."

"What do you call it? C-G-I?"

"Yeah, CGI effects! Pretty good for the 80's, huh?"

"-I guess so?"

"OH, well, yeah... Sorry, you weren't watching movies in... In, uh... RIGHT, changing subject,"

"Okay?" She laughed.

"-What time is it?" He gazed at the cable box's clock- reading 9:24 PM in neon green. "Wow. Long time for Star Trek."

Looking down at his feet- Phil nudged his foot and snickered at the resistance he got from Mangle's draped head- her using his left foot as a pillow while a mess of pipes and metal tentacles wrapped thrice over his ankles.

Making small snoring sounds- he reached down and patted the top of her head with a few steel-like clinks.

"It's been a day, and I'm still tired." He sighed. "Austria, woo! Right?"

"I wish we could've stayed longer." Foxy was trailing a finger through his hair. "Would've been nice."

"I'll find a museum somewhere around here- I'll scope it out, see when the crowds thin out, I'll get you in all those coats, and I'll bring you!"

"'Scope out'? Like robbing a bank? Ha."

"Yeah it could be like a secret operation and such!"

"Alright."

"That'll be fun, I believe."

"I think so, Phil."

"...Hey,"

"-Hmm?"

"What do you, uh... What do you think of that, scene, with-uhm-with Data?"

"'Data'? That creepy pale guy from the movie?"

"Yes. In the court."

"I thought it spoke to me, a lot."

"You and me both."

"-Like, I'm Data- and you're Picard, kind'a thing?"

"Exactly!" Phillip laughed. "-Exactly! I knew this whole chemistry thing was working!"

Phillip was smiling from that exchange- perhaps experiencing a combination of deliberate, and subconscious bolsters to his mood- he stood, tripping in a brief stumble over Mangle with a collection of clanks and thuds of metal.

Hissing in sudden anxiety- he grit his teeth and frowned down at the unmoving animatronic that was still wrapped over his ankles. Phil started to hobble towards the T.V.- Mangle making sharply cut snores with each shuffle of his legs.

"Where did we find YOU?" He mumbled, turning off the DVD player as Foxy tapped her fingers on the arm of the sofa.

She mulled on the possibility of reopening the same complaints as for the last few months, and thought better of it with a huff.

"She found US, remember?"

"There's a story somewhere in there begging to be written.."

"Too bad you could never publish it."

"It is too bad, you're right."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

Phillip was sifting through the same pile of mail over and over with the sole focus on the inky letter he had gotten earlier- he felt the weight through the few bills, the advertisement and a piece of junk mail.

Sitting over his kitchen table, surrounded by the dim hue of the fading late evening light through the window covers' cracks- Phil turned and returned the parcels like one would count a slip of dollar bills -whenever he found the letter, he tried to re-stuff it into the pile without remembering what it had said.

But eventually he understood that it was not possible for him to forget- the letter ended up sitting to the side as he again, pointlessly flipped through his stupid mail.

His eyes locked on it- and his ears perked -highlighting the small amount of noise upstairs as Foxy and Mangle were chatting about some matter he did not hear specifics of. Blinking slowly, Phillip bit his lip, snatched up the inky paper again and pressed it between his hands to sort some of the crumpling.

He flicked it once to get it stand rigid- read it, reread it.

"Creatures I don't understand..." He muttered, parroting. "-Creatures... I don't... Under-frickin'-stand, huh?"

What the hell did that mean?

What did any of this letter mean?

Creatures he didn't understand- the person who _knew_ all of this to send the letter, something he found passion in located in somewhere called 'Upstate'?

Upstate where?

Upstate... Florida? Did they even call the northern part of that state 'Upstate'?

Upstate Connecticut?

Upstate New Jersey?

Upstate-

"Wait... Up-state, DOH!" Phil clapped a hand lightly to his forehead in a lean back from the table. Where _else_ had that term?

"Upstate New YORK. Upstate New York, yes, duh! That's it!"

Suddenly seeing the letter in a sort of golden light- Phillip formed a fist and patted his knuckles on the paper's face. That made some sense at least.

But now there were still two questions left-

Who was this person or being?

WHAT was he looking for in New York? And what was he looking for, that he held passion in?

Phillip didn't have any friends or relatives or even locations that were emotionally significant to him in New York- the only reasons he went through New York were to travel to and from several east coast going airports in Europe.

What was in New York?

Phillip scrunched his brow and laid the letter down.

Well, perhaps he needed to think about this for a moment. What did he take passion in? Writing, his father, history, Foxy, Mangle...

"-Writing... Writing has nothing to do with New York... And dad had nothing to do with New York... History... History-history-history... What could be in New York that has anything to do with either World War? Or the Civil War?"

-Where to even begin with that.

There were _tens_ of locations in New York that were dedicated to the teaching, showing, or studying of either World War 1 or 2, and probably even more dedicated to the Civil and Revolutionary Wars...

Phillip ran into the T.V. room, snatched up his laptop he had slid underneath the cabinet for the DVD player, and brought it back as he unfolded it on the kitchen table.

He waited for the boot screen to go away- he signed in, waited a few seconds for the processes to start up. Going onto the internet tab- he pulled up a 'Bing' search, and started typing.

'Museums in Upstate New York'.

-He hit enter.

"...Oh, jeez'..." He muttered- even though he did expect the given result.

There were tens of tabs on top of tabs of all different museums and showrooms- gun museums, document exhibitions, an air show this week... His eyes started to ache as he glued himself to the screen, reading each site tab that scrolled down.

"Lots of Forts..." He whispered, squinting. "-Niagara, Ontario, blah-blah-blah... Camp Shanks... No-no..."

The mouse wheel squeaked a finality- and Phillip just zipped to the name that stuck out at him like an oncoming freight train.

He clicked the tab- idly rubbing his chin -a drab-colored home page with brief description of exhibits and status of the local area popped up, along with the name- 'Aberdeen Proving Grounds'.

"Aberdeen Proving Grounds... That has to be it." He snapped his fingers. "That has to be it. It HAS to be."

Phillip loaded another search engine- Google -and started typing up the address for a map of the museum's location. It came up- he copied it, and was forced into a screeching halt right after he clicked the right mouse button and subsequent drop-down tab.

He just told Foxy earlier- 'No Work'. He was caught here.

...But what if this was important? What if it meant his doing something could stop a lot of people from getting hurt, or possibly even dying? As a situation like that had already happened once or twice in his life now.

Foxy's feelings and her being happy were important to him... But did that warrant his playing God and risking people's lives? He had to think about the kind of monsters, and inhuman beings they were dealing with here.

Phillip reasoned with himself, sighed, and decided that possibly- this might actually be the perfect setup.

He had been talking to her about going somewhere history related. Aberdeen was just one giant artillery gun and tank exhibit- Foxy would go bonkers when he told her about some of the Russian and German pieces there.

-He would just, you know- be lying so he could prowl around when she wasn't looking to spot whatever this phantom calling card was telling him to spot. Whoever sent this letter could've just been a prankster- lying, or worse, could've been trying to lure him and her into a trap.

 _That_ option, the last one- Phillip wouldn't forgive himself if he weren't the one to answer for those consequences, and if something happened to Mangle or Foxy.

Phil closed his eyes and thought of a prayer- he pasted the map into his email, and forwarded it to his phone.

Whether to disaster, or to the time of Foxy's life and the sating of his curiosity- Aberdeen was on his travel list.

Demons or a stupid kid sending creepy notes all over the neighborhood... At least, the consolation was, to some degree- it was pretty fragging cool that the Proving Grounds had an old World War 2 Jagdpanther in their exhibits. Boo-yah.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

"Me think Foxy over-thinking!"

"That doesn't mean much coming from YOU, sister."

"That not nice! Me have lots of thinking and stuff!"

"Really? What's the best thing you can think of right now? Right this second? First thought to pop into your mind?"

"TEA!"

"-Uh-huh, yeah. I reiterate my point."

"But, Foxxxyyyyyy'! I didn't liquiy-date any rates!"

"... Oh, Mangle..."

"Hiiiiiii, Foxxxxyyyyy'!"

Foxy smiled at her discombobulated friend- drew a hairbrush down the russet-colored fur of her forearm- and blew at the standing strands when the brush's stride proved unable to lay the whole pattern flat.

Truth be told- as Foxy stood before the bathroom sink- she found Mangle's company during her daily 'Grooming' to be rather good for her person. It was nice to have the weirdy to talk to- especially if Phillip was doing... Whatever, downstairs without her.

Foxy hummed to herself and started going through the fur on her arm again with another few strokes of a big fat hairbrush- the black bristles laced and a little gunked up with all sorts of russet fuzzballs, strands, and ties.

Since a shower had proven to make her 'Spark'- (It was actually, _really_ painful, when water got in her creases and grooves- it made the circuits there zap, and it stung like a complete bitch)- she had taken to a combination of using steam washers, disinfectants, and polishes to clean herself every night.

It was all a big setup and project- she'd made Phil bring up a little barstool from the garage to store in his closet- she'd take it out, and sprawl out a mats-worth of stuff all over the bathroom sink counter.

She'd finished the rest of her procedure- which, when noted by Phillip, was only responded to with rolls of eyes and statements revolving around- "Women, pfft."- coming from his mouth.

Mangle curled in a pile on top of the shower curtain rod behind and above her- she watched Foxy in the mirror over the sink to talk to her.

"Mangle, really for a second though, I'm being serious,"

"Me be serious too, Foxy..."

"Phillip's kind of bothering me."

"Because you impatient."

"I am not impatient!" Foxy snapped- turning around to glare at her briefly.

"Mmmhmm!" Mangle nodded furiously with squeaks of metal, a bunch of pipe-limbs draping over the shower curtains swung a bit with the effort.

"Why do you say that?" Foxy harumphed. "-Tell me."

"You do this two yeary' ago!"

"That was... Different."

"But still same at same time! Same-same, Foxy!"

"But HOW? What's the reasoning, girl?"

"Philly-kins take things slow!"

"I've been waiting two years! That's not slow?"

"Not by peoples standards, Foxy."

"You mean, by human standards, right?"

"Philly-kins have human pointy view all life. He used to thingies going slower."

"...So, you're saying because, I expect things to go faster... I have to understand it from a human perspective?"

"Mmhmm." She shook her head affirmative quickly. "Me see on T.V.! Peoples wait twice as many years before happy time!"

"-Sssh!" Foxy chuckled. "Phil' talk to you about quoting the T.V.?"

"Me think, he take two steps back and literally, F-!" - ** _CLCKLCKL-_** "-Own face! Me like T.V."

"-MANGLE, come on! That's the kind of stuff I'm talking about!" Foxy picked up her accidently fallen brush. "He would have a FIT if he heard you say that! Why would you say that? You're his best friend, besides me."

"Me fight for liberties to watch T.V.'s!"

"Do you even know what you just said, means?"

"Uhmmm... Tell the grown ups to respect rights! ... Right, Foxxxyyyy'?"

"NO. Now, don't repeat that ever again, please."

"... I sorry..."

"Mm."

"What it mean, Foxxxy'?"

"When you're older."

"But-BUT, FOXXXYYYYYY'?"

"No."

"-Me wanna' know what taking two step back and literally f-" _-"Hey! Foxy! When you get a chance, come down here, I gotta' show you something!"_ -came Phil's voice from downstairs. "-your own facey' means!"

"MANGLE!"

"Buuuttttt' FOXXXYYYYYY'!"

"Knock it off or I'm locking you in the shed outside!"

"SHED IS LIKE BASEMENT-" **_CLK SHHKSKK_** -"WAHH!" - **_BUM_**

Slowly turning from her view of the mirror- Foxy raised a brow as the shower curtain and rod lay in a big mess on the floor and side of the tub behind her- Mangle forming a big lump in the blue fabric underneath.

Her ears tented the center of the wad her raising head made when she sat up- looked in both directions, and chattered nonsensically.

"Foxy! It dark!"

Foxy just rolled her jaw, and started to put away all of her cleaning goods- sliding drawers, closing them, opening the bottom cabinet.

"...Foxxxyyyyy'...?"

Closing the cabinet, Foxy stood from the barstool with a grunt of wood- picked it up in a grip under the round seat- and snorted at the pile on the floor, now sifting about as Mangle darted her head all over.

"FOXY LOCK ME IN SHED!"

"Mmhmm." She hummed. "That's right. You're alone. Abandoned."

"-MAYDAY! S.S.O!"

"-It's S.O.S, you freak."

"SOMEBODY CALL THE LATRINES!"

"...D-Do you mean the MARINES?" Foxy snickered. "Nah, they're not coming."

"...Me doomed."

"Doomed alright."

Foxy reached down and tore off the curtain in a swish of motion- revealing the frozen position of Mangle's partially raised head.

Her one good eye darted about, she closed her jaw- looked at Foxy with a tiny sniff, and waved a foot.

"Me not like shed, Foxy."

"Put the shower rod and the curtain back up, please?"

"Mmmkkay!"

Foxy sighed in ironic sense of pity- and stepped outside the bathroom door to deposit the stool in Phil's bedroom closet.

No sooner had she shut the door and was going down the stairs did Mangle start chittering in some song she had heard on the television as she fixed the bathroom- Foxy watched the ajar door briefly, and questioned her abilities as a guardian of the weirdy for leaving her to her own devices.

"What did you say before, Phil?" She asked, stroking her brow with her right paw's fingers, walking into the kitchen to see him turning his laptop to face her.

"Check this out." He said.

She leaned down and read the name on the drab-colored page- read some of the text, and looked at some of the pictures- her eyes widened.

"That looks... Nice." She said with interest. "I wish I could go there."

"I'm gonna' sneak us in."

"...Phil..."

"What? I can do it! I'll get the guards- if there are any -to let us in after hours!"

"...Phillip..."

"What?"

"It's in a military compound." She raised a brow. "An ACTIVE, military compound."

"...Yeah, and, there might be, at the most- a National Guard or two on visit in this part. I'll use my mumbo-jumbo on 'em."

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Foxy...?"

"Mm?"

"...They have a legit Jagdpanther. They have a whole row of Panzers. They have a whole row of T-34's. They have an M7 Priest- and I lost count of the Shermans."

"..."

"...Ey? C'mon, Foxxxyyyy'..."

"...You'd better be able to put those grounds workers to sleep."

"Clear weather, clear abilities. I'm setting us up to go to Upstate New York, in a day or two."

"Well, I... Uhm... Thank you, Phillip."

"Yep! It'll be sick, I promise." He smiled.

-And then, he nervously swallowed.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

Slogging through the pines played havoc with his material form's grooves. It felt like they had clumped dirt and tree sap gathered in them that made it sluggish to turn his limbs or move them around.

He had a big red stain drawing down his frontal torso and his quad-legged hipline from when a wild black bear had happened on them and started yelling- Flintlock tore its throat out with his teeth, and proceeded through the grueling nature walk like it never happened.

Shrap was becoming more and more agitated the longer he spent wasting his time in the material realm going on a hike- he had dirt caught up in the rinds of his stone legs, he'd started grumbling to himself every so often.

This far out into the middle of nowhere- the only thing to behold their presence in terror, were rabbits, deer, birds and small woodland creatures- all of whom evenly fled appropriately for seeing the spawn of hell itself.

Flintlock reached up and shoved the limbs of a wide thicket from his path with one burly, spindly-fingered claw while noting to Shrap the aura he started to get.

"You feel that, right?"

"Aye." Shrap sighed behind him- struggling to worm around trunks of trees without tearing each and every one of them down. "I feel it."

"There hasn't been one of our kind to tread this place in... How long?"

"Probably ever since the one you plan on contacting, walked the mortal plane?"

"Unbelievable. Astounding."

"-Bad news."

"It's the contrary to the enigma, Shrap! The ironic truth!"

"Truth? Enigma?"

"The reason we can't surpass the mortals, and good."

"Uh-huh."

"We can't get out of our own way! We can't just put aside all the drama and pointless antics- thus, I'LL do it for them."

"...Flint', this'll end either perfectly or in death."

"Over time, yes. Though... It sounds like your utterance is to something else?"

"The Tempest is guarded."

"By whom is not certain."

"Yeah, but it's guarded."

"...You're point? We'll kill him or her."

"Only the most craziest, diluted, or madly devoted being would be drawn to such a self-implemented stance. And they're probably tough to hold it this long."

"Who says this Tempest isn't held over by someone recent?"

"It would've been used already if some rookie was the overseer, Flint'..."

"Fine, a challenge-" Flintlock's four legs padded in a slight jog up a final incline that formed a rolling raise before their tread- his suction-cupped, metal heels kicking twigs and leaves with tiny cracks. "-A challenge would be nice."

Shrap didn't answer when he thudded to Flintlock's flat level of the ground over the hill in a mere three steps up and down. Snorting- he almost ran right into Flintlock's slightly smaller back when he kept going despite his leader stopping.

Looking at the mechanical monstrosity awkwardly- he shrugged with a rolling of cement.

"What?"

"You don't feel that?"

"I've gotten used to it."

"-So you're just being dull?"

"Mm."

"We're right on top of it, Shrap. The Tempest is HERE." Flintlock pointed ahead to a clearing in the woods a mere few feet ahead of them. "Untouched. We might get lucky, huh?"

"Doubtful."

The clearing was layered in a thin sheet of forest debris kicked about by the wind- a pair of boulders stood to the opposite tree-filled rim of the flat area that they entered- trees grew all around this clearing, but not in it.

The breeze whispered through the sea of pines and evergreens in the backdrop- the sky was tinted a shade of dark blue to symbolize the amount of time they had spent trekking here.

Flintlock grew giddy- he advanced to stand directly center the clearing- he spread all four legs in a tall stand- held out his arms and raised his head in a intake of breath. Shrap stood behind on the rim of the clearing- eyeing with internal judgment.

"It's wonderful, Shrap! The power, feel that? Do you?"

"Yes-yes-yes,I DO. I feel it. Are you done? Are you happy?"

"VERY-very happy! I mean- LISTEN, listen to that...!" Flintlock held a claw up to the side of his head to show a nonexistent holding of ear. "...I hear... NOTHING. Ha!"

"Comedic."

"Nothing... Means, NO ONE. This Tempest is empty."

"... So I was wrong, don't take it that mockingly. Something could still go very wrong, Flint'."

"Wonder how long it'll take to open this thing..."

"However long it takes you to summon the energy." Shrap leant back a bit- seeing the impending bout of boredom heading his direction.

Flintlock had started to say some kind of comment.

"You know, you could-"

 ** _cccccCCCCRRRAAAKKKK_**

Flintlock shut his jaws- turned with a few creaks of steel.

Shrap's red eyes grew brighter in shock- he stepped forwards and saw where the tearing of wood, apparently, had come from.

Beside the two boulders in the back of the clearing was a horribly gnarled, gray, fungi covered, dead tree. It looked out of place- like a deceased oak you would find further south of the pine dabbled expanse they stood in.

The bark was making that awful racket- and with unbelievable reason.

Where the foot of the tree split with flecks of bark flying all over- a moving, seemingly alive, three-pronged limb extended into the air, and came down onto the ground.

 ** _BUMM_**

-It shuddered the very earth- kicked up a hue of dust, sent dead leaves flurrying.

It was a foot.

A really big, gnarly, wooden foot.

 ** _ccccCCCRRRAAAKKK_**

-The tree's other baseline grew a fissure in its bark- a duplicate limb of the first on the other side, sprouted forth, and stomped onto the ground.

 ** _BBMMM_**

A similar environmental reaction.

The tree had legs. Guess this Tempest wasn't so empty.

The dead plant started to quake- and the limbs compressed these branching feet harder into the ground. With more groans of bark, ripping of soil and snapping of a thousand sticks- the tree uprooted itself from the ground with a burst of dirt and smoke.

A wad of undulating roots- like a million worms -formed a clump that shifted and moved under the drooping limbs that extended from all over the base of the oak- the feet standing tall, extending fully with creaking noises.

 ** _CCCCCRRAAK_**

 ** _CCCRRAAK_**

An arm- each with bulky shoulders made of entangling strips of wood, forearms made of roots and twisted together branches- shot out from both sides of the tree's flanks, draping by its 'Hips' and curling long, spindled fingers into crunching fists.

Dirt and dust fell and slithered off the tree everywhere- and with a final two tears of bark- a big, reptilian, yellow eye with no pupil sprouted from the center of its trunk in a vertical elongation. It blinked with a tiny shift of wood.

The branches and leafless sticks that made the splaying top, the 'Hair' of the tree were moving like the wormy roots bushing under its legs from its ground base.

Flintlock and Shrap didn't know exactly how or what to say to the other being- they stood, fists half-raised, words held.

The tree regarded the two of them- and took two steps forwards into the clearing, away from the duel boulders it had emerged near.

 ** _BMK_**

 ** _BMK_**

-More soil and clumped forest debris flittered down in balls and strings all over its body.

"... ** _I see... I see one known,_** " A voice- a million year old voice- drawled from seemingly thin air. " ** _...I see... Flintlock. Flintlock the damned. I see Shrapnal. Shrapnal the gullible... The likes of you... Are not welcome here..._** "

The tree stepped forwards again- twice, more thuds rebounded. It jabbed a curling pointy finger at Flintlock, blinking with its disgusting eye.

" ** _...YOU... I will force onto... Retreat, Flintlock... The damned._** " There was a hoarse, drawn out, and ragged wheeze of breath between each fling of words. The tree stood there, hazardously crumpling its fingers together in each claw.

Flintlock cocked his head to the creature- looked over his shoulder to Shrap, and then back at the tree.

"Heh-heh," Shrap was dumbfounded when his leader just chuckled lowly. "-He called you gullible. What'd else you walk into by accident, Shrap?"

" ** _...LEAVE this Tempest of the Higher Powers... It does not answer to thee. As not, do I..._** "

"Who are you, old one?"

" ** _...My name is... Dreadroot. I obey our maker... This Tempest is off limits... To your kind._** "

"But, surely you see we are of the same species, Dreadroot?"

" ** _...BEGONE..._** "

"Perhaps, you can offer me a liberty before resorting to physical reasoning, yes?" Flintlock grinned with his daggered teeth. "-Hear WHY I have come here, before simply, 'Making', me leave?"

" ** _... I do not... Have patience, for sycophants as... Yourself._** "

"Well, for the good of the Higher Powers, GET some patience."

" ** _... Your actions... Mean the... Undoing, of the Higher Powers._** "

"You mean, ascension?"

" ** _...You dishonor us all, Flintlock the damned..._** "

"If you all weren't so set in your ways- I'd have gotten us the keys to the gates of the cherubs already."

" ** _...Insolent... Rodent..._** "

"Dreadroot, I'm here to commune with the Fallen."

" ** _... Not only... Are you dishonorable... You are stupid. Yes... Very... Very... STUPID._** " Dreadroot chuckled.

"I'm too smart for my own good, yes," Flintlock dismissed. "-Old one, I never did mention- that you don't have a say in this action of mine -didn't I?"

"Flintlock, this isn't a good idea..." Shrap muttered.

" ** _...You'd do well... To listen to the... Simple minded brute... Flintlock, the damned._** "

"My simple minded brute will assist me in tearing you into a thousand pieces, and allowing me to consume your soul, Dreadroot. If need be, of course. This can ALL be avoided! IF, you leave me to the Tempest here."

" ** _...I'll leave you... To the Tempest, I will..._** " All the branches and roots squirming on Dreadroot's form started to quiver- like a million snakes, now -he extended his clawed fingers, his eye got wider as his body started to hiss from all the tiny movements. " ** _...I will bury you here... Flintlock, the damned._** "

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7.**

 **Hanging Storm Cloud.**

* * *

 ** _"Always ensure your camera's spiritual integrity by pledging a blood oath to whatever greater entity promises its safe passage to the heavens. Results for user may vary. But hey! Your camera's safe!"_**

 ** _-Writ 117 of Surveillance._**

* * *

Dreadroot was obviously very old. In fact, Dreadroot was probably older than Flintlock by a longshot- which meant he had seen the wheel of time in a hundred different lights more, than his opponent could ever hope too.

The advantage Dreadroot had over him- was the fact that he was from a different age that had spelled a passage of golden prosperity for his kind- he was more experienced, more diluted, bigger, and stronger. However, that did not at all mean, that Flintlock had no chance of actually beating him in a direct melee fight.

With millions of tiny roots and branches wriggling and worming all over his form- Dreadroot finalized confirmation of his threat, and stepped towards the center of the clearing with thundering falls of his wooden feet.

 ** _BMM_**

 ** _BMM_**

 ** _BMM_** -

The earth beneath Flintlock's heels shuddered and dust and dead leaves fell from all the surrounding trees.

"-This is assuming you are sure of this," Flintlock sighed, backing up with all four legs. "But your confidence is to be your undoing, old one."

" ** _…. Confidence…. Is merely assurance. I assure you… You have met your killer… Flintlock the damned._** " Dreadroot echoed.

"Shrap, fall back, come around." Flintlock nodded for the woods behind him. "Here that, Dready'? I'm flankin' you!"

" ** _…Your antics agitate me…_** "

"I don't know what you're planning," Shrap grumbled, backing past two trunks of pine trees. "-I don't like it."

"Tough cookies for you, heh? Ha-ha!" Flintlock laughed- suddenly striding forwards on all fours in a lion-like sprint. "Bring it on, tree-man!"

" ** _DIE!_** "

Dreadroot brought back a great, lumbering arm- and loosed its weight forwards in a heaving swipe that formed a breeze to kick around the foliage draped about the ground.

Flintlock vanished in a inky blotch of distorted air- he tore the fabric of reality right as the arm careened through the space he ran to- ravaging through nothing but air. Dreadroot sounded legitimately annoyed with a groaning noise of creaking bark.

His eye narrowed with a cracking screech- Dreadroot kept moving forwards with a thrash- his foot lashing out to catch his weight as he returned his swept arm to a drape by his side.

Tuning to view the surrounding clearing in slow, thudding footfalls- Dreadroot held his arms in the air.

" ** _….Why do you RUN…. Flintlock the damned?_** " He mocked, loudly. " ** _…Flintlock… the COWARD._** "

"-The humans have a saying, that SNIPERS, are cowards too," Flintlock's voice materialized as he swept about immaterial reality in circles around Dreadroot's towering hulk, searching for an opening. "Because they stay far from the fighting… And kill at range."

" ** _….You are a pest… You do not…. FIGHT…. You murder._** " Dreadroot dragged.

"MURDER?! –Ha! That coming from any of our kind? Dreadroot, your poetic sense of evil wounds me."

" ** _…You wound… Our species very nam-_** "

"For once, SHUT UP."

A crackling of distorted space- Flintlock rematerialized in a hurling descent several feet over Dreadroot's canopy- he fell, landed in the twisting branches with a shuffle of twigs and snapping of wood.

The old demon barked angrily- a clenching, root-like hand reaching up and sifting through the canopy with a million slides, cracks, and shuffles.

Flintlock hunkered down lower, feeling a finger probe through the mesh of debris right over his head- he reared back, and started swiping into the wood of a large limb's base with his claws. Chips of bark flew, and he started severing the material quickly with shredding reports.

Dreadroot buckled forwards from the physical destruction weakening his form- bunched his arms together, and the hundreds of branches in his canopy started to shiver faster.

Flintlock drew his claw in a swipe one last time- there was a **_CRNKK!_** -of bark, and a large, several foot-long thick limb fell from Dreadroot's top in a cloud of sawdust and splinters- it thudded onto the ground and the old demon barked.

" ** _...FLINTLOCK...!_** "

Flintlock felt the thousands of tiny branches flittering around him- a large one coiled like a snake over his one arm, stopping it mid-swing against another limb. More slung and wrapped around his _other_ arm, and then two of his legs.

Snapping twigs- a forceful push -Flintlock flew from Dreadroot's canopy when the tens of branches holding him tossed him loosely.

Flint' sailed for a second- saw the ground -and caught his fall with scrabbling quad-legs, kicking up dirt and dust as he stumbled to a full stand.

"-That all you have, old one?" He snickered- spitting a wood chip from his jaws to the side. "Try actually FIGHTING."

" ** _...DIE, FLINTLOCK...! DIE!_** "

"Oh, hell-HA! The irony! HELL!"

Dreadroot surged forth- raising both fists into the air- he brought the gnarling fists down at once, and Flintlock had just vanished into a tear of reality when the impact hit.

 ** _BWMWMMM_**

-A mushroom cloud of dust flew everywhere- the very ground cracked around two mangled indents where Dreadroot's fists hit the earth directly. Pines and leaves flew off all the closest trees to the clearing edges.

Blinking his eye- Dreadroot tore his huge arms away with dragging trails of soil- he stepped back.

" ** _...COWARDS!_** "

-Shrap appeared from the forest line directly behind him- a tree was snapped clean in two to make room for his stone-arm swinging charge- Sharp jumped a foot into the air, and brought both concrete arms in a overhead crushing motion.

Shrap's forearms smashed into the calf of Dreadroot's right bark leg- cracking the hide there, sending splinters and clouded dust pluming. Dreadroot barked again- he fell on a the same sided knee, his leg appearing to fracture, like a piece of glass.

Black ooze seeped from the crevices made in his hide- some of it spurted out repugnantly- slapped right into Shrap's face with a few squirts.

"-GAH-!" The stone demon cried- dragging the girth of an arm down the stone of his burly chest futilely. "-DAMN!"

" ** _...Away... With YOU._** "

 ** _CLMM_**

Dreadroot's arm craned over his hip- backhanded Shrap's smaller form with a drawling impact across his concrete torso.

Dust and pebbles coughed up into the air, Shrap flew back like a rock tossed from a trebuchet- he smacked through the girth of a great pine tree with a cracking of wood, and vanished in the resulting timber.

Smoke clouded, the tree piled in on itself and over the brute that had been thrown into it- shuddering all the plant life by the back of the clearing from the burst.

Dreadroot was making to stand when Flintlock reappeared again- this time, clutching onto the back of his ankle.

Flint's claws slashed and cut- black blood spewed everywhere, coating his eyeless face and body and arms all onyx and shiny.

Dreadroot hollered loud enough to echo for the next five miles across the pine forests- and right as Flintlock leapt away from the ruined rear of his foe's leg- fingers from Dreadroot's other hand swept by in a clawing motion.

"-Looks like it hurts, Dreadroot!" Flintlock scoffed loudly- disappearing a third instance in a torn continuum jump. "That Tempest is MINE!"

" ** _... That Tempest... Does not answer to you!_** "

"Not yet," Flintlock forcefully shot through the immaterial tear he next made- thus, the unnatural energies he toyed with made him shoot force with the speed of a fired cannonball.

Dreadroot cried out when his center trunk shattered into millions of splinters, and large, vertically long chunks and shreds. Black ooze gushed everywhere, Dreadroot now bearing a gaping, ragged tear that ran straight through his back, all the way to underneath his wooden eye.

Flintlock finished the flight from the penetrative attack- he clambered to a full stand on the ground, grinned wickedly as the old tree demon fell on both knees with upkicks of dust and cracked earth.

Holding his quivering, gnarled hands up towards the hole- Dreadroot was fully aware that the injury was to be his last- and, readying his claws- he reached out one final time to Flintlock's form.

Flint _almost_ , wasn't quick enough.

But in the end, he dodged just at the right time.

The claws warped harmlessly through the brief flicker of his reality-distorting travel- fell to heave palms against the ground to support Dreadroot's failing body.

" ** _...Flintlock..._** " Dreadroot hacked and wetly coughed. " ** _-NO..._** "

Another flicker of teleportation- Flintlock had all four legs wrapped just above the black gushing wound, below Dreadroot's wooden eye- he leaned forwards with his long, mechanical head, and grinned all his sets of razor teeth into the eye's pupil.

Rearing back with his claws- Flintlock lastly noted.

"I warned ya', old one."

" ** _...No...NO! NO!_** "

Flintlock reached up and clenched his clawed fingers and palms over the eye's center- there was a bright light, and Dreadroot's body convulsed in constant jerks.

Flint's arms trembled, the mechanics in his body whined and whirred- laughing the whole struggle- his arms and clenched claws snapped back with a flash of crimson.

Seeing the great tree go still, and suddenly hearing the absent croak of groaning, shifting tree bark- Flintlock sneered, claws clenched together in a ball, quivering, with a small red light issuing faintly between the digits.

He leapt away, landed on all four suction-cupped feet onto the ground, and watched with humor the now silent tree trunk- arms and legs connected, and forming two large roots that half buried themselves in the soil at its sides.

Where the eye once stood, there was no little more than a gash of wood- the trench torn through the trunk's center was dry, and ragged with dust.

Smiling down at the shaking red energy clasped in his palms- Flintlock raised his claws to his mouth, and shoved the soul they held into his jaws, where he clenched his teeth once in a sickening **_CRK_** -sound.

Tilting his head back, he opened his jaws with another toothy grin, and breathed- like he had eaten a breath mint.

"-Oh Dready', Dready', DREADY'..." He tsked, watching the dead tree. "Times have changed."

"Is that fucker, DEAD?" Shrap clambered out from the woods- sticks and leaves clumped and jutting all over his body, a indented gash of disturbed stone drawing down his barrel torso.

"Dead and awfully hunger satisfying." Flint' mused. "Now... The thing we came for! Back to business!"

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

They were going to leave on Wednesday- take a long road trip, through the pine barrens, into the rolling countryside of black bears, deer, evergreen swathes and high mountains. They were going to pass all through that- into the urban sprawls before their destination.

From what Phillip had read- the Aberdeen Proving Grounds was an expansive military property with the actual museum located near its center. It was wide, open, and if they showed up at night- Phil could very easily 'Allow' himself to get taken in by any people acting as security, and use his ability to make them forget everything.

One of the greatest perks he had been granted from the unnatural powers two years ago was his skill at messing with other people's heads in emergency situations. It was handy, and Phillip didn't abuse it-(Though, one _cloud_ argue, that by using it to get Foxy into a museum was a tad of abuse) -thus he didn't see anything wrong.

Foxy deserved a break with all the stuff she had done throughout the last cycles of time- and now that he had gotten her into a such a good place, he figured fun things like this to spice it up, were only possible _if_ he used his abilities.

Even in the coats- the last thing a bunch of service members at the Proving Ground were going to allow- was a heavily clothed person into the base without even a body check. It was the modern day- security was rightfully tight.

Unfortunately- as per stressed every time it came up -that meant bad news for the upright, two legged, partially mechanical vulpine. Nothing good would come of that.

So- Monday night now -Phillip was still replaying what he had said a few hours ago over and over, and as he did so, he had the inked, mysterious letter in question laid out on the table next to him.

Sitting in the most un-sat-in room upstairs- the guest bedroom -Phil was seating on the side of the sheetless mattress, he had pulled up a small foldable snack table from the T.V. room downstairs, quietly shut the door, and was sifting through the past.

Directly center the table was a folder that Phillip knew all too well- it was flipped open, and the contents were organized in lays around it and by the feet of the table.

The section of the late Matthew's data folder containing the crime scene photos and the grisly photographic evidence, was lain behind Phillip's feet underneath the bed- because, frankly, he didn't even want to look at it.

What he wanted to look at were all the notes and records Matt had gathered and recorded.

So, flipping through small folds of paper detailing locations across the world- most of them, having been drawn over with large red lines by Phil's own hand with permanent marker- as they served as the first places he and Foxy had gone on 'Hunts' in.

There was the reference to East Anglia that lead them to kill the Black Shuck- there was the reference in Brazil that lead them to kill one of perhaps several 'Chupicabre' in South America- the reference to the 'Jersey Devil'.

Phillip smiled at that one- randomly remembering the beast ripping his car door off after he'd screamed like a woman from the other side upon seeing it.

They were dangerous, and scary scenes... But they were the most adventurous moments in his life.

He had Matt to thank for the springboards to his current position- now, Phillip didn't need age-old references or points, he could research it all by himself

However, the letter persisted as a bother.

So, Phillip Linn really didn't know why exactly he was still fiddling with all the contents in the folder. Maybe he just couldn't sleep.

Rubbing his eyes groggily- Phillip laid down a set of parchment with a map of local Bavaria scribbled on it neatly- he sat back on the mattress with a creaking of springs lightly.

He was surprised Foxy hadn't gotten up looking for him.

Usually at night whenever he couldn't sleep- she could just detect he wasn't in the bed and she would wander around until she found him on his computer, or watching T.V., or playing a videogame.

"What are you doing...?" She murmured, eyes squinted, on a past night where Phil was thinking too hard about a recent trip they'd made and he had been up from 1:00 at night until 3:00 playing War of the Monsters.

"Mm." He grunted- eyes half-lidded, at the television. "-Monsters..."

"Monsters...?"

"Monsters..."

"Monsters...Oh..."

"MM..."

"Gimme... Other controller..."

"...Other controller...Uhm...HERE."

"Mm."

Foxy sat down on the sofa behind him- they started a new game -amazingly able to manipulate the whole system perfectly despite being unable to form proper English speech.

She then proceeded to play as her favorite character- a Japanese robot called 'Ultra-V' and she royally whooped his ass when he tried playing as the giant preying mantis- 'Preytor'.

"...Why can't sleep...?" She grumbled, mashing the circle button without so much as a sound, on the controller as to viciously have Ultra-V repeatedly slam a taxi car into poor Preytor's angular skull.

"I dunno'." Phil shrugged- his monster now dead, respawning.

"...It's not healthy...Phillip..." Foxy yawned- vanishing from his monster's sight briefly, before throwing a tanker truck that sailed clean between two buildings, nailed Preytor in the gut, and sent the flaming bug flying a mile across the map.

"...I HATE Preytor..." Phillip sighed tiredly.

"Then why'd... PLAY as him...?"

"Didn't expect you playing... Too..."

"...How... How the shit.. Do you keep getting... HEALTH BONUSES... Damn it..."

-Phillip was smiling when the guest bedroom door thudded three times, creaked from the impact.

"Yep?" He asked aloud.

"...Why aren't you sleeping?" Came groggily from outside the door. "It's like... 2:00."

"I dunno'."

"Can I come in?"

"Hold on..." Phillip gathered up all the folders contents with several grabs, bends, and reaches- stuffed it all under the actual folder itself, put it on the floor- and kicked it under the bed with the heel of his socked foot. "Alright."

The door squeaked open.

"What's the matter, Phil? Afraid I'll notice?"

"Huh?"

Phillip looked up from his stare down at the floor- and into the unnaturally dark archway of the opened door.

Standing in the shadow was a black blotch- humanoid, hunched, burly. Two tiny white eyes pierced the dark- and gradually, this spine-shivering, upwards crescent of spindly ivory formed a smile that faded to focus beneath those tiny irises.

"What... What the fu-"

"You look... UPSET, Phillip," The voice wasn't Foxy's. "You look distressed."

That thing in the doorway- _wasn't_ Foxy.

Phillip felt a horrible coldness shoot up his back- his vision flared black, and came to again and he jerked from stillness with a heavy intake of breath.

 ** _BMM_**

"-O-OHmyGod..." He sputtered, a bead of sweat drawing down his forehead. "...Pfft-H-holy... Oh... Oh God..."

Leaning his hands back against the guest mattress- he realized, that he had been lying back, and that he was wet with perspiration. Still panting, he gazed ahead at the door- and saw it was still shut, unmoved, undisturbed, and it had always been that way.

The room was barely lit with the small lamp on the floor by the bed's other side behind him- the folder was packed, its contents folded inside, and laid across the top of the snack table with the inked letter placed atop it.

Phil looked down at it, and then at the door again.

He had fallen asleep on the guest bed- sifting through that damned folder.

It was a dream. A bad one.

Phil stood bolt upright, took the folder, and did what he did in the dream- shoved it under the open space beneath the bare mattress and metal board. He slowly opened the door to the hallway outside- and peered into the darkness of the upstairs hall.

He heard the tiny whispering breathing sounds that Mangle made when she went into recharge mode echoing from his bedroom- and the sheets shifted as Foxy turned lightly or moved a little.

Nothing else but a bit of wind outside to lowly dabble.

Phillip blinked- and sighed at himself.

 _Foxy was right that night... This isn't healthy._

Turning around- Phillip walked around the guest bed, picked up the small lamp and turned it off before feeling his way again to the door, and then out into the hall towards his bedroom doorframe. The carpeted floor creaked when he stepped on it, and he shut his eyes in annoyance that he might have woken either one of the others up.

Surprisingly, and with relief- neither Fox' nor the weirdy who was perched on top of the shelf ahead the foot of his bed awoke.

Phil clacked his teeth together- lifted the sheets on his side and slipped in as quietly and smoothly as possible.

Curling under the cool warmth- he sat awake with his eyes glued to the wall on the other side of the bedroom- contemplating not only what he was stupidly fiddling with before, but now, with this daunting dream.

He could still see it.

It scared him. And that took a lot- he faced down and killed the Black Shuck, _and_ helped kill the Jersey Devil. He shot a Chupicabre with a friggin' hunting rifle- in the face -like, it wasn't just some regular aim and shoot either- it jumped at him, and he opened its face, like, CA-BLAM! Oh snap!

-And here he was ready to piss himself after a bad dream.

Foxy's tail brushed his leg- receded, and brushed it again. Before he knew it- she turned in her sleep and a furry arm was over his waist and across his chest, he felt his back compressed against, and calm breath on the back of his neck.

Phillip forced himself to shut his eyes- that terror inducing face he had seen imprinted in the swimming haze of his lids. It weakened with each tiny gust of exhaling he felt from Foxy over his neck. Soon the face pulsed last, and he forgot about it.

In fifteen seconds- he knew, he started counting sheep -he was out like a light -the dream did not reoccur.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

Whilst the one body in the room met the obstacle of an inside-generated illusion- another body, that of Mangle, met the obstacle of another self, within the _self_.

Mangle's locked away double personality- the black hound that always was in the back of her conscience, the one that had been unable to escape or influence her for a full year- was now trying to claw its way back into her mind.

It didn't happen every night- but sometimes, when Mangle would enter her rest mode, there were the same black tendrils that had plagued her during the week-long adventure of her life, and always before that.

Idly, the tendrils would start to probe around- they'd poke, prod, try to find a weak spot that she ensured would never be there.

She hadn't heard the voices arguing in a long time- but they echoed far off in the reaches of her head, muffled, and not understandable- nowhere near as loud and dominant as they had been in the past, but there and alive.

Mangle would hunker down in her mental defenses- she'd keep the tendrils away with the constant reminders of her new happy home and the happy people around her- she'd listen to the distant voices going back and forth, back and forth- like a child would sit up at night hearing their parents talking or arguing in another room.

Luckily so- this was the furthest extent to how bad it always got nowadays. No longer did she have this immediate risk of switching personalities, or hurting people around her through crazed episodes of anger and malice.

But still, Mangle had to put up with the insanity her mind had been flushed into.

Yes, technically, some of that insanity made her happy- it made her outgoing, and childish, and funny, and innocent... But too much of the mental collapse meant that her other self could begin using the shadows as rungs on a ladder to her mind.

It never got farther than the distant drabble echoing in her dreams- but it still frightened her.

After all this time, she still could not entirely get her act together, and that both made her angry at herself, and afraid of herself. She still chastised herself over the transformation against Foxy in Phil's home two years ago.

But yet- Mangle continued to work on furthering and furthering the dark away.

It was just too bad the dark kept resisting.

When Phillip had creaked the floor of the bedroom- Mangle had heard it, but she was too drawn into warding the tendrils back to notice or take stock in it.

Her mind had been battered since the day of its creation- and that specific day was lost to her, just as was the ability to have a singular personality, once and for all. Atop the bookshelf- Mangle chittered in her sleep- she shifted, and with a buzz of ozone, her one eye opened and violet lit the center of her other socket.

Grinding her teeth together, she shifted to observe her two friends still asleep- she sniffed in their general direction- trying to pick up... _anything_ , she supposed. Anything that would symbolize something besides a quiet night throughout the house.

Her pipes unfurled slowly from underneath where her head was perched- she looked down over the edge of the bookshelf, and hopped off with a flail of pipes.

Quietly- in a disturbingly effective style- Mangle hissed movement on the carpeting across the room, to the door, where she opened it and slipped out without a noise.

She hopped down the stairs, landed a bit roughly, and found a choking sensation of wanting dryness in her throat. She flung through the archway to the kitchen, past the T.V. room, and landed before Phillip's refrigerator.

The door slid open with a suctioning sound- the contents inside shook a bit- Mangle slipped in three hands that snatched up a tall, thin, brown-colored bottle reading _Nestea_ , and the bottle was tugged out- the cap flew off, and it was empty in the next few seconds.

Dragging her tongue around expediently over her chops- Mangle angled the bottle back and looked inside with a disappointed murmur. Throwing it into the sink above on the counter nearby- she looked at the archway to the kitchen, and listened.

Nothing.

No footsteps or creaking floors.

They were still asleep.

Mangle rolled her jaw- climbed across the floor with her pipes like a hundred-limbed spider- reached the foyer and subsequent front door.

Taking a huge chance with everything she had been content with- Mangle reached up, and keyed in a code, that, technically, she was not supposed to know.

 ** _BEEP-BEEP_** -

Phillip's house alarm was turned off. She reached up again, and held down the 'Instant' key.

 ** _BEEPBEEPBEEP!_**

-She knew she had a few seconds before the alarm reset. She opened the front door- wincing when a small gust of wind whispered in from outside.

Pausing a last- Mangle slipped outside and shut the door behind her.

Ten seconds later, the alarm reset.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8.**

 **The Old Blood.**

* * *

 ** _"Your mother's so stupid- she sold her Canon for lens cleaner money!"_**

 **-Writ 118 of Surveillance 'Yo-Mama's Camcorder' Special Edition Booklet.**

* * *

Phillip remembered the first night that he had gone to sleep when he got the job as the nightshift worker for that stupid pizzeria.

He remembered seeing all those shifting shadows in the dark of his room- he remembered how afraid he felt, like a child would be terrorized by the lack of a nightlight when they went to bed. Even when it wasn't apparent what precisely he had gotten himself into- the very air felt wrong.

Back when it had first begun- before he knew who the demons were, who Foxy was, who Mangle was- it was the uncertain knowledge that he had become involved in something really bad, that made him lose sleep in anxiety.

When he had become used to Foxy's presence- particularly by the end of that fateful week -he had slept soundly for the first time in days- and over the last two years, Phil had been able to sleep in the same bed with her.

Talk about a switch between comfort levels.

When Phillip woke up- he could detect the warming tendrils of deep rest receding from his very consciousness- he could detect the mental and emotional heat being replaced by entirely physical heat- and when he tried to turn over, he met resistance.

Still too drowsy to smile or laugh at her- Phillip laughed in his half-dream state internally- seeing Foxy wrapped over him like a cocoon- she had her face buried in the sheets bundled up by his rear right shoulder.

Foxy was even going so far as to spoon him- which, he'd later not let her live down- he felt the fuzzy leg over his waist before he glanced down and saw it, her foot resting above his kneecaps.

She made a light snoring sound when he inched his head off the pillow to look around the room- now hazed light blue in the shadowy dark by the beginnings of morning.

Phil craned to look at his nightstand- and saw the digital clock reading 7:56 AM- and also that it wasn't set to go off for another two hours. Humming in appreciation of that- he thunked back down onto the pillow, and woke up Foxy in the accidental process.

"mmmmMMMMM..." She hummed in annoyance- squeezing him with the arm wrapped over his side.

"Mmm?" He tiredly toned back.

"MM."

"Mmm..."

"Mm-Mm."

"Mmmmmmm..."

"mmmMMM."

"Mm."

"-Shut up-" She groaned quickly from his shoulder. "-Sleep-"

"-Yeah, sleep."

"No talking..."

"Mm."

"-Oh, God..."

As she trailed back to the land of dreams and gumdrops and whatever else pranced around in her head- Phil angled up one last time- and noticed the lack of Mangle that was taking up the top of his bookshelf on the end of the room by the foot of the bed.

Seeing as he held no clue to the events that had transpired after his little bad nap in the guest bedroom- Phil saw nothing wrong with this picture, in that Mangle must have already been up, or was using his bathroom... Again.

Trying to forget that last possibility- Phil was reminded, that apparently, Mangle had a spontaneous episode of respect for hygiene- and that comfort actually made him start to fall back asleep faster. Ironically, as it took him longer to regain that zone- Foxy was already out just behind him.

She was making that tiny snore again- a drawling- _sssnnNNK...sssssnnnNNNK..._ -and he smiled at how funny she sounded, how meek. Hopping with a chuckle, his eyes flickered open for a moment, and even though the bed was still calling him- the empty bookshelf overhead was just... Bothering, him.

It was a weird little feeling- a subconscious sense that something wasn't right.

Phillip exhaled- annoyed at his laziness' interruption.

Sheets sifted, Foxy mumbled something inaudible in the pillows- and Phillip was soon sitting off the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes with flexing fingers, breath hissing as it passed his palms.

"...For God's sake, where'd the weirdy go..." He grumbled.

He didn't even bother to get out of his P.J's- he just got out of bed, trudged like a zombie across the carpet- and stepped out into the hallway to go downstairs.

Rounding the railing's corner- he glanced over his shoulder, back to the shaded doorframe of the guest room that was never used. The door was closed, with but a crack present on the one side- since the only window in there had the blinds down, it was still pretty dark.

Phillip looked at the door with a sudden grimness crossing his face- the same kind of look, the display of bravery and hate he had given demons in the past. He looked into the darkness, and while for a second he could've sworn he felt something, after a minute, he realized he was torturing himself with paranoia.

...It was... Expected, right?

All the things he did, all the things he'd seen... No joke they were scary, they were _really_ scary. He was lucky to have the mind he did, the spiritual strength he did, last night was just a bit of a slip, a tiny crack in the bulwark.

Feasible to say, that crack was now sealed.

So forget you... _darkness_ , nobody loved you anyway.

"I need coffee, damn it." Phillip muttered. He couldn't say he- 'Needed a vacation'- because, after all, technically, he was ON one.

The stairs creaked, and in moments he was over the kitchen counter, eyes starting to open up more as he listened to the brewer grumble, and the first of the pot start to bubble inside the keg. The coffee machine was a soothing sound in the quietness of the kitchen.

It was Tuesday, a brand new day, perhaps the _real_ start to their little time off.

Yesterday they had been too tired, but today, for Phil at least- he felt the exhaustion of the morning gradually dampening as the smell of caffeine filled the room. Normall he drank coffee every other day, and that hadn't been a thing _before_ he had the incident at the pizzeria two years ago.

But once Foxy and Mangle had been living in his home a year, it was around a year, anyway- Phillip started graduating from coffee in the morning once in a blue moon, to pretty much every single day, and then another year went by, and now it was ever _other_ day.

His coffee habits had been messed up, just like his tea habits- in fact, he almost never drank tea anymore, because whenever he bought several gallons of bottles worth of the stuff, it all vanished within a few days.

It vanished down Mangle's gullet.

...That made Phillip think, as he took the pot from the machine's slot.

He used one hand to steady his white, glass mug, and the other to tip the black over for a fine stream of strongly scented, steaming brew to pour out and fill the cup's interior halfway.

The fact that Mangle wasn't all over him this morning like she usually did, was bugging him. So putting the pot back in the machine's tray- the refrigerator door opened, and the contents clinked about lowly.

Phil came back out with an armed bomb in his hands- at least, when it came to _Mangle_ , that was basically what it was.

It was a bottle of iced tea. Nestea.

Mangle theoretically should've come barreling out to chug it down.

"...Yo, weirdy'," Phillip smiled. "I got TEEeeaaAAaaa." He sang.

...Nothing.

...No Mangle.

What the hell?

Something was definitely not right.

"Holy frag," Phillip blinked in shock. "Mangle?"

Phil slapped the bottle down on the counter- went to turn out of the kitchen, and spun back around with his eyes locked on the plastic container.

He leaned closer, and then leant back with a- 'Oh for God's sake!' -when he saw the bottle was bone dry.

That would figure.

"What IS it with you?!" Phil ranted to himself, about the missing animatronic in question. "Wrecks my car, drinks all my fragging tea- and now, she cleans my house too! I mean- UGH! The horror!"

As Phillip trotted around, he angled his head in all directions- he checked the T.V. room, he checked the rest of the kitchen, the foyer, he glanced upstairs...

The alarm keypad bleeped as he put in the code- **_BEEP_** -and then he opened the garage door and peaked inside the darkened interior. All that was there was the Ford, shaded in the fading night's gloom- no abnormalities, no movement, no noises, no freaking _Mangle_.

Where the heck did she go?

"Mangle?" He called out, now worried.

 ** _BM_**

-"- _Phillip_ -?" -Came faintly from his bedroom upstairs- Foxy sounded half dead. If he weren't concerned now, he would've laughed. "...P-Phillip...? What happened...?"

Foxy stood at the top of the stairs with grogginess laced throughout her voice- one eye was more open than the other.

"I can't find the wierdy!" Phillip held his arms up at the base of the stairs. "Did you see her? I got nothing!"

"...What do you mean...?" Foxy trotted down the stairs- and Phillip was already doing a second sweep of the house.

She yawned, her toothed chops parting and then clapping closed. As the vulpine smacked her lips and scratched at an irritation by her left thigh, Phil was unlocking the front door.

"Maybe she's outside," He said, panicked. "Fox', I can't find her."

"...She's... NOWHERE, in the whole house, Phillip?" She blinked. "D-Doesn't she know the alarm code?"

"...Oh for the love of-" Phil was halfway out the door when he slapped himself in the forehead. "That was so- STUPID!"

"...Calm down, Phillip, she's done this before..."

"I know, I know, I KNOW, but I mean... I don't want her to get hurt! What if someone sees her?"

"...Don't you think that would have, I don't know, HAPPENED, already?" Foxy rubbed her one eye with a bunching of fingers. "She's had two years."

"Well... I-I mean, YEAH, but... B-But I'm just worried!"

"I'll wait here, then," She sighed. "Do I smell coffee?"

"Yeah, I made a pot. I'm just gonna' look around, alright?"

"Alright."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

Phillip looked across all the corners and ends of his front lawn- he checked by the fence on both sides of the house, he checked the entire _sides_ , and then he flew through the back gate into the rear yard.

The two trees were there, still marked from the first fist fight he had ever engaged demonic forces with two years ago- and for the most part, the yard was as desolate as it always was, or, rather, _boring_ as it always was.

The lush green grass was moist with dew, some crickets were still chirping final notes in the woodlands around the fences, there was a dove cooing from its perch on a nearby power line.

"Mangle!" Phillip called, checking to his left, his right- he advanced forwards, and he heard an anomaly in the serene morning air.

Something shifted, metallic, against the grass- he heard a sniffle.

"...Mangle?"

Phillip rounded the first of the two trees- and he jumped in surprise to seeing his missing friend, bundled on the grassy ground at the foot of the tree- her pipe limbs coiled in a great bundle under her- she hid her face underneath a hand and two feet.

The sniffling was her- Mangle had not only left the house without his knowing, but she was apparently upset about _something_ now that she was out here.

"Mangle! A-Are you hurt? Are you okay? Why did you leave the house without telling me!" Phillip held his arms up, kneeling down beside her. "Mangle, look at me! Please!"

Mangle's face rose from the coils of her metallic limbs- her elongated, vulpine expression was twisted, like she was crying even though no tears could ever be present- she blinked at him a few times.

"M-Me sorry, Philly!" She cried. "Me sorry!"

"-OOF-!"

Now splayed on his back, with Mangle coiling and enwrapping his torso- again -Phillip stared up at the dark blue sky with a shocked demeanor, and lack of knowledge on what to do.

Listening to her cry made melt a little- you know, even though she annoyed the living heck out of him sometimes, he personally didn't believe the thought of _Mangle_ , being sad, _wouldn't_ impact even the most stone-faced of people.

Mangle was just... Too _happy_ , to be sad. What the heck had happened?

"...C-Calm down, Mangle, c'mon, ssh-shh- calm down," Phillip sat up and patted the back of her white, furry head. "What happened? You scared the crap out of me!"

Mangle didn't pull away- but she made a grunt, something she didn't do a lot- and suddenly, Phil was having a crumpled piece of parchment shoved in his face, balled in the toes of one of her many animatronic feet.

Phil cocked his head- unwound an arm from her and took the parchment in his grip. He flicked it a few times to straighten it- and written there, in thick, runny, dark ink, was-

 _You've got it. Go there._

 _-Anonymous_

"Oh HELL no." Phillip said through grit teeth. "Mangle? Mangle, who gave you this?"

"Me find it..." She muffled into his shoulder.

"Where?"

"Fronty door..."

"...But Mangle, w-why would you just LEAVE after that? W-Why wouldn't you get me? Or Fox'?"

"...Feel things..."

"...You... FELT something? Well- w-what does that mean?"

"...Bad things, Philly... BAD THINGS! AND ME SCARED!"

"...Oh geez', alright, c'mon, c'mon, stop it, ssh, it's fine." Phillip had his eyes locked to the back gate of his property.

Whoever, or whatever this was, it needed to stop.

So like every other problem they had encountered, Phillip was going to find the source and snip it at the base. Whatever it took.

But as he stood with Mangle in his grip- and started purposefully trotting for the gateway... He remembered Foxy again, what he had been saying to himself last night... Their time off.

...Was Phillip really going to squander their time together over something that was probably a prank? Or maybe even, at worst, a trap?

He paused on the cobble walkway, just before the gate- he bunched Mangle in his arms, and brought her head to face him.

The whackjob looked so terrible too him, being twisted up in a sobbing expression like that- she blinked her one eye at him.

"M-Me no wanna' fight anymore, Philly-kins!" She stuttered. "Don't wanna' go BACK! Don't want you and Foxy to go back!"

"W-We're not, just- look, look at me," He leaned down and patted between her ears, forcing a smile. "We're not going back. This is just somebody being a complete douch-uhm... a complete JERK, it's a prank."

"...B-But that not look like Hankie, Philly..."

"No-no, not a-" He rolled his eyes, sighed. "-...No. It's a PRANK, someone thinks they're being funny. Okay, you CANNOT, tell Foxy about this okay? Promise me that, you CANNOT, cannot, cannot, tell Foxy'. Okay?"

"...But Philly... It Foxxxyyyy'..." Mangle chattered. "...You never lie to Foxxxyyy'!"

"We're not lying, we're... uhm... KEEPING HER, from unneeded stress! Ha! There we go!" He stated proudly. "There's no reason for her to worry about this, because it's just a stupid prank! She doesn't need that on her head, right?"

"...N-No... B-But-"

"TRUST ME. Please?"

"...Okay, Emperor Philly-Kins..."

"Okay. Let me talk to her, I'll make you a breakfast muffin, alright?"

"...Me want cupcakes..."

"Well, it's basically a really big cupcake with blueberries in it, alright?"

"...Cupcakes! Yay...!" She quietly cheered.

"Oh, you little weirdy." Phillip chuckled.

Inside his mind though, he felt awfully icky for what he had just set up.

Lying to Foxy... He truly hoped he was right.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

She was seated in the chair on the right side of the kitchen table, the one not visible down the aisle of the foyer from the front door. They always had the same seating arrangements like that- she sat away from where, if the door opened, she would be seeable, and Phil sat there instead.

Usually Mangle didn't require a third seat, even though there were four- seeing as she chose one of her friends' shoulders or laps for a seat during meals or talking sessions or board games.

But today, Foxy was content to sit idle at the table, looking ahead at where Phillip normally sat, burning holes in the top of the chair there- she put her chin in her palm and lightly took a sip of the mug that she had gotten herself.

The caffeine actually didn't help to wake her up- seeing as she couldn't physically reap any kind of benefits or results from food and drink- whenever she ate, it was purely aesthetic, for taste, pleasure. The coffee was the same thing.

Because, for whatever reason, she just... _liked_ the taste of coffee. Whatever. Nothing specific. There it was.

She looked down at her reflection in the swirling blackness of the basically un-tampered caffeine. Phillip liked using a lot of milk and sugar, but she always preferred black.

Again, for whatever reason. She was too groggy to care either way.

Hearing the front door open in the foyer- she heard Mangle and Phillip talking to each other, so any faint sense of concern she had felt beforehand was now obliterated as she took another sip of her coffee.

Mangle pulled stuff like that all the time, there was nothing spectacular about it anymore, never had been.

Though as Phillip bustled into the kitchen, and Mangled waved at her from his arms- she smiled back and watched briefly as he brought her back upstairs. When they vanished through the kitchen doorframe, the stairs creaked, the ceiling shifted from Phil's bedroom floor.

Foxy again was brought to her mulled reflection in the coffee below her chin.

Settling her jawline in her palms, elbows to the table- she gazed into the still liquid, saw herself, noted her newly kempt look, the things that Phillip always said made her look- 'Pretty' -the things that he had made possible for her, and another reason she loved him.

She smiled, and her reflection smiled back. Her grogginess was starting to go away, and Foxy felt a heightened sense of her day really starting.

"She's gonna' take a nap," Phillip sighed as he came into the doorframe a few minutes later. "She was just, uhm... She was crying outside."

"Why?" She leaned her head up in her palms, brows scrunching.

"She's... UPSET, that we were gone for so long, I guess..." Phil shrugged, walking around the table, retrieving his mug- he passed her, and bent down to peck the top of her head. "Now that that's taken care of- how're ya' feeling, Fox'?"

"Tired." She hummed whilst he sat down in the opposite sided chair. "...Did you pay the electric bill? I know, random question."

"Uhmmmm-YES, yes I did," Phil nodded after a moment. "Not too bad this month. I guess we're not- 'Techy' -people, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I got the others too... I HATE bills."

"You'd be even more weird to NOT hate them,"

"What do you mean MORE weird?"

"I think everyone in this house is a weirdy too, Phillip." She smiled.

"You're probably right. We're all doomed." He laughed, sipping his mug.

"Oh, you."

"...So I've been thinking,"

"About?"

"A few things, actually,"

"Alright."

"One, what day would you want to try and drive out to those Proving Grounds I showed you?"

"...Mmmmmm... I dunno', Phillip... How about Thursday?"

"Schedule's clear all week, so, I mean, yeah, why not?" He chuckled. "Thursday it is."

"And you said they have a Jagdpanther?"

"Jagdpanther, Panthers, Panzers, T-34's, KV's, Shermans, M8's... They even have a fragging M40'! Like, say whaaat'?"

"That will be so cool." Foxy said. "Really. Seeing all those tanks... It'll be really amazing for me, and you too."

"Definitely, those things are PURE World War 2!" Phillip shook his head. "Where else in the country can we go for that, right? It'll be awesome!"

"Not like robbing a bank, right?"

"Wha'? Oh, no, we won't have to go to THOSE extremes," He waved a hand. "We're gonna' go at night, and if anyone tries to get us, I'll use my voodoo stuff on them!"

"-'Voo-Doo'- stuff?" She mused. "From what you've told me, that was a God-given thing, and you're calling it- 'Voo-Doo'?"

"Oh well, I mean... I don't know about GOD given, but..." Phillip shrugged. "I don't know how to explain it."

"It's saved our asses too many times for me to consider complaining."

"Yeah. I agree."

"...What was the other thing you wanted to say, Phil?"

"Uhm, well," He smiled that she just KNEW like that, they were good for each other. "I'll come out and say it, I've been thinking about the sex talks we've had, you know?"

"Mmhmm."

"And I've been thinking how awkward it would be to bring it up with you so blatantly."

"MMMMMmmmm..."

"...So, not NOW of course, seeing as the whackjob is occupying my bedroom, lord preserve me," Phil looked at the ceiling. "But Foxy, you're right. Bottom line. You. Are. RIGHT. It's been two years, we're at the point we're at, and... and yeah, I want to try."

"I'm glad to hear that." Foxy nodded, folding her arms over the table. "It's about time, damn it."

"...What, no... no excited reaction? No, shout of joy, nothin'?" He grinned.

"How about this? -OH, Phillip! YAY! I'm so happy you're willing to fuck after all this time! I'm just, ECSTATIC," She clenched her hands by her cheek dramatically, toothily smiling. "-That you wanna' FUCK little old me!"

"WHAT?! HA-HA!" He burst out laughing. "-For God's sake, woman! Really?"

"Really." She slid her paw around the mug on her side and held it open.

Phil put his cup down and clenched her palm with both hands, giving it a good squeeze.

"I love you more than anything in this world, you know that, right?" He asked.

"Mmhmm, I do. How COULDN'T you?" She hummed. "I'm just too good."

"You are. I'd have to be a moron to say otherwise."

"You're MY moron, at least."

"I've just been so, I dunno'... AFRAID, I kinda'... I'm so uncertain, because, biologically, I mean, look at us," He gestured back and forth. "We're so different. I've been held back by that, and I shouldn't be..."

"I understand, Phillip," She brought her other paw into the mix with his hands. "There isn't anything like this in the whole world besides us. It's scary, and... It's interesting, it's..."

"Taboo?"

"More for you, I would think, yes?"

"Yes, to a degree."

"I think it's exciting."

"Certainly that," Phil nodded. "...While we're on this subject."

"Mmhmm?"

"How should we, like, uhm... SHOW each other, our, uhm... You know..."

"I say we just kick out Mangle, go in your room, and strip in front of each other." She bluntly stated. "Easy."

"-WOW. Way to just, PUT that out there," He laughed. "You're so much more confident than me."

"I'm tired of waiting." She reminded.

"Well, I don't think the first thing we want to do is, take such a big leap like that... I mean..."

"Phillip, I'm ready whenever you are." Foxy stated. "Whenever you want to try this, I will drop whatever I'm doing and go with you, it's important to me."

"It is to me too."

"...Anyway, did we have plans for today?"

"...Erm, that was, uh... The last thing I was gonna' talk about," He cleared his throat. "I had a dream last night about something so... RANDOM."

"Was it that fantasy story dream again? The insane one you told me about?"

"The one with some hero dude, a painter, a super soldier and an army of robots against the world?"

"...How did you, even, GET that from whatever it was you saw?" She chuckled. "You ARE weird."

"I dunno', it just, POPPED in there one night... No, so, the dream I had, was of a path through a forest, like, the woods," He nodded at the window in the T.V. room, covered by the blinds. "I thought maybe we could take a drive out to the park east of here, you know?"

"...Wouldn't there be other people there, Phillip?"

"I can use the energies I have," Phillip reminded. "And it's a week day, and look where we live, there isn't gonna' be ANYONE there in, say, the afternoon."

"...Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. You and me, Mangle's taking a nap, I'll lock up, we'll have a forest trail all to ourselves."

"...Alright."

"Yeah?"

"Alright, sure."

"Great! Lemme' just finish my coffee, and I'll get dressed, and we'll drive over there."

Foxy loved how excited he sounded about it.

Unraveling their hands- she smiled at him as he started to sip his mug more frequently- she noticed, oddly, that bundled in the little pocket on the breast of his sleep shirt, was what appeared a tiny crumple of paper, or something like it.

Putting her mug down, she nodded at it.

"What is that, Phillip?"

Phillip quirked a brow, glanced down to follow her eyes, and made a coughing sound as he almost choked on his drink.

"-U-Uhm, nothing, random advertisement I found in the, uhm... the mailbox, I meant to chuck it, I forgot."

"Alright."

...Oh, if only she knew.

Phillip used two fingers to shove it deeper into his pocket.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

There had been something off, that she had felt last night, and it was so off, that it made her leave the house, and roam around the property, because she wanted to find the source of it.

Mangle of course found nothing, it was like lumbering around a room _filled_ with an awful smell and not being able to sniff your way through the rank stench to its source- it made her feelings, her senses do backflips and bounce off the walls in her head.

It was a feeling of paranoia, of dread and negativity- she wouldn't know how to describe it with any other words besides that. There was a presence that was in the house, around the house, and while she couldn't physically see, smell, hear or taste the presence, she just knew it was there, like an overhanging aura.

The note she had found outside was kind of a side-by thing- she actually hadn't expected anything like that, and, really, she didn't know if she expected _anything_ at all. But the parchment note had made her go into a kind of panic attack.

Her best friends were whisking themselves away all the time, and Mangle didn't always know if they would ever come back from some of their fateful trips, plus, in addition to that- now she detected this terrible, terrible presence, _and_ , she was finding things left on the property by someone she didn't even know.

It was like the world was opening up and trying to eat them again, like it had two years ago, or when Phillip had first told her he and Foxy were going across the globe to hunt creatures related to the ones that had tormented her.

She was so happy in this house, with Phillip, with Foxy, with the conformity of being able to sleep soundly and do what made her happy (even if it annoyed the bollacks out of everyone around her)- and she never wanted it to end.

So she curled up on the foot of Phillip's bed, and she doted on these things before she forced her systems into rest mod.

Mangle silently tore up her thinking, and for a good while before she actually was dark again, Phillip had been standing in the doorway, watching her, worried for her.

He had his jeans and shirt wrapped over his arm, new boxers and socks in the other hand, a can of deodorant meshed in with it all- he delayed his morning routine for a good ten minutes just doting on Mangle, like she doted on the thing she had detected last night.

Now, unknown to him- there were secrets being kept all over the house.

He lied to Foxy about the notes, Mangle lied to both of them indirectly and spoke nothing of what she had sniffed out last night...

-All because they didn't want the urban peacefulness, to be over.

And where was the selflessness in _that_?

Phil shut the door to his room quietly, and stood in the hallway, looking down the stairs to the foyer- thinking, that perhaps, a lot more had changed in two years than any of them realized at the given moment.

He was no longer the scared young man thrown into a horror house, Foxy was no longer the timid, self-degrading mess, Mangle was no longer the madly babbling, socially starved wreck...

-And now they all wanted to steer clear of anything that reminded them of what they were.

The question still hung there-

Where had the selflessness gone?

Maybe it was just time for the world to sort itself out for a change, or maybe the party of three just wanted to be done, when they still had an adventure ahead of them.

No one even had an inkling of that last bit, though, so, it wasn't even in the considerations bucket.

Still, as Phillip slipped on fresh clothes, had his daily examination of his own face in the mirror, the idea that something was brewing again did unsettle him for the exact same reasons as listed- he just didn't want it to end, this, boring urban life he had now.

His significant other was here, his best friend was here in all her whacked glory, he had quiet neighbors whom he never even interacted with, he had a mailman that never shut up and was as pleasant as could be, he had financial security to ensure all of it wasn't in jeopardy.

Phillip went through the motions, and he soon started reasoning-

'Well, if the place was blowing up, it would look a lot worse, and as far as I'm concerned, I've killed so many of those freaks, that the threat level just HAS to have gone down.'

-And he was right, to a point.

He and Foxy had traveled the world just, exterminating the creatures wherever they found them, they had cleared entire territories, terminated sources of folklore and legends that had gone back thousands of years... They just... _had_ to be making a difference.

 _We've earned a break._ He thought. _We've earned it, and I'm not cutting it away like that. Screw off, world, go complain to someone else for a change._

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	9. Almost Died Today

_**So, I never, ever, EVER, take up chapter space for something stupid like a note, or an update on something happening to me, because I put them up there for anybody who gives two craps and wants to read it at their convenience, I know, you want the ACTUAL story I'm writing, not my life story.**_

 _ **But something happened today, that I feel, I really want to share with you on a person-to-person level, as much as I can anyway, through a keyboard and screen, right? Lol**_

 _ **I was driving on the L.I.E, because I live on Long Island in New York- and there was a woman driving behind me, she had blonde hair, sunglasses, and was driving a silver SUV, I think it was a Ford- she tailgates me, I give her the same treatment I give all tailgaters, and I slow down.**_

 _ **She gets pissed, swerves violently around me, cuts me off, and then purposefully slams on the brakes in front of me- I swerved to avoid her, lost control of my car, and WHAM!- I'm sitting there with my vehicle implanted into the wire guard rail in the middle divider island between the lanes, my windshield wipers are kicking, and there's dust everywhere.**_

 _ **This woman ran me off the road, and then drove away, like nothing happened. Cute, right?**_

 _ **So it was amazing actually, I had around three/four people pull over, and they were all like- 'Are you alright?' 'Are you hurt?'**_

 _ **-Here is the amazing thing I have to remember, through all my anger, my frightened demeanor that I experienced right after this, even after all the horrible things I said about this dipshit that crashed my car- I am grateful that I wasn't hurt, and that no one else was hurt, I mean, that's the bottom line- no injuries, that's good, I could've been easily killed or hurt, so, I have to be grateful for that even if I can't see it right now while I type this.**_

 _ **I had a girl pull over with me too, nice girl, goes to the same campus- she gave me a 'Lord Jesus Christ' -bracelet, stayed with me for a minute when the Sheriffs showed up, and honest to God (Huh, GOD, being the word here) -I am not a religious person, but I'm gonna' take that as a sign from whatever is up there, God, Allah, Jesus, a giant purple fluff ball that hugs people- I don't frikkin' know, but I took it as a sign.**_

 _ **So I sat with my poor little car, it's totaled, and because it all happened so fast, I never got the driver's license plate- so the cops showed up, this nice girl drove away after a bit when I said she should probably get to class, and all I had for company was this overhanging feeling that I was in a nightmare, and that I needed to wake up.**_

 _ **The two officers that showed up weren't much talk, of course, after all they see shit like that and a million times worse every single day practically, it's part of the reality of their jobs- I was just another person that had experienced something scary, what else could they say? They were understanding about it at least, I feel.**_

 _ **I get the car towed, an Emergency Service vehicle shows up, tugs my car from the guard rail, and this smelly guy in a tow truck mounts it up there, and I have to get into the truck's passenger seat that's littered with refuse and old parts, it was a mess.**_

 _ **We drive out with my car in the back- we reach the shop, because the driver didn't want to drive me out to my personal auto repair shop, so in addition to me going to this place out east I've never been before, I now have to call a SECOND company, to tow the car back to my personally used repair shop. It was a shit-show.**_

 _ **So I had to get my parent there, the good ole' mother unit- respect your mom, kids, there isn't another woman in the world like her for you, just remember that -we actually drove to my campus to look for this person's car, because, she was young too, I'm thinking she goes there- we obviously find nothing, so we drive home.**_

 _ **Now it's like, I dunno', crash happened at 10:00, it's 3:20 now, four/five hours ago? My car's ruined, I have to buy a new one, I don't have a ride to college, sucks- and I'll never see this woman in my life again, even though she should be the one paying for it all. But you know, so is life, what the crap else can I do, right?**_

 _ **It's ironic that this happened too me right after I typed a recent chapter for Camera Angles, where Phil and Foxy get pulled over by a state trooper- (Which I'll post when I get my thoughts together, I guess) -it was actually one of the secondary thoughts that flew into my head as I was sitting in my wrecked car.**_

 _ **Straight out of one of my stories, I shit you not- the radio's still playing Smash Mouth, the windshield wipers are going- I'm sitting there with bared teeth and clenching the wheel- I lightly reached over, turned off the radio, took the keys out, and slumped back.**_

 _ **I don't think I'll ever forget it, that feeling, of seeing the world flying by like that, my hands swerving the wheel, the way your mind just goes blank- lemme' tell you something, it's fuckin' scary.**_

 _ **Here's all I have to say about it in the end- I'm alive, I didn't get killed, no one else got hurt or killed, so, YEAH, I have to buy a new car- (I dunno' even where to start with that) -but I didn't croak, so I have to see the light in that. Probably was Grandpa helping me out, thanks Grandpa! Lol**_

 ** _Don't speed, do yourself a favor when you're driving. Don't drive so aggressively, this woman was, and look what happened. Don't take every day you have for granted- I got up this morning stressing out about my first day back at the college, and guess what, it turns out a near-death experience had too be the thing I REALLY needed to be prepping for._**

 ** _'WTF' right?_**

 ** _If you've read that giant block of text so far, than thanks a million! Means a lot too me, hope it doesn't happen to me again._**

 ** _So unless Godzilla starts rampaging through Manhattan or something, here's what I can promise- I will never, ever, EVER, take up another chapter slot with a notification. :P_**

 ** _I'm off to Kelly-Blue-Book or some shit._**

 ** _Hope your day is extremely more awesome-sauce than mine- I think I got the fuck-head flavor today._**

 ** _~Don_**


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **I walked into hell twice... Both by accident, mind you.**

* * *

 ** _"If someone says to me... You sir! Where art' thou' Camera lens?_**

 ** _I shall say-ith'- Extend unto me thy' greatest of tripods!_**

 ** _Then we would all realize just how bad our Shakespearian really is._**

 ** _But who cares?! We have FILM EQUIPMENT!"_**

 **-Writ 120 of Surveillance.**

* * *

The weather was beautiful once the gloom of early morning receded. The sun was shining over everything, all the woodland and the trees and brush that made up most of the property in their urban development- the bright green leaves looked golden in patches above.

A breeze rustled the millions of limbs that sprouted from their main trunk bases- the forests whispered, birds chirped, and cicadas reverberated shrill cries in the canopy. The sky was blue with trailing clouds of pure white- thin, lacking a so-called 'Fluffiness' -too their shapes.

It was actually decently cool out- which was a bit of an abnormality for the time of year, but, Phillip wasn't complaining when they entered the garage, subsequently the old Ford, and it wasn't so stuffy inside either.

Foxy was trying something new instead of bundling herself in all the coats they kept for her- she sat in the passenger seat with a single coat draped over her shoulder that was bore to the sunlight coming through the window- but other than that, she was devoid of any other protection outside her usual attire.

"Are you EVER going to try a shirt? Or regular pants?" Phillip asked as the car grumbled to life, and he reclined from the ignition.

"Maybe..." Foxy shrugged tiredly. They hadn't even left the garage yet and the sun was already wearing her down.

Though arguably, it was MUCH better than when they first had been together- two years ago, Foxy literally could not travel at all in daylight, and then a year ago, she KIND of could, it just went really slowly.

Now, two years later, it was just uncomfortable for her- that was particularly why they operated at night for a lot of the hunts they engaged in- it was also why they found their targets quite readily and quickly, seeing as demons tended to be nocturnal in their behaviors.

He had started to think again about what he had said about them going to this walking area in broad daylight- but once he had already said it, Foxy was adamant about sticking to it. She refused any offers for later hours.

"You said there would be no one there now," She reminded curtly. "I want to go with you, now. I'll deal with the sun."

...Well, here they were. Foxy was certainly a trooper when it came to personable things like this- after all, she had barreled through hell and much worse, so some drowsiness from daylight wasn't going to do her in. So, even though her being in discomfort bugged him- he did as she wished.

And besides, she was the GIRL in this equation, since when did the girl _not_ have her way? That would be just wrong.

Though Phil still hissed when the sunlight streamed in through the rear window, and then the rear sides, and then the front sides- he heard Foxy make a bit of a whine when the sensation hit her- she shifted in the seat and her eyes blinked a few times.

"Should I pull back in? Are you alright?" He turned to her, one hand on the wheel, one on her arm.

Foxy cricked her neck a few times- glanced at him with narrowed eyes.

"Just drive God damn it."

"...Alright, but if you change your mind-"

"PHILLIP."

"Alright-alright! Don't hurt me!"

The few times cars passed by when they went down the sidestreets, Foxy just hunkered lower in her seat, and they were able to cross the development with relatively inconspicuous perfection, and confidence.

Phillip and her were both unnatural things, technically, that people didn't believe existed- what with his powers, her being _her_ in general, and they had successfully hidden themselves in American society for two years, thus, a little drive wasn't a problem.

The winding streets lined with occasional houses and lots of woodland broke out for the intersection that Phillip used to take to get on the highway, and by definition, every job in the handful he had held was accessed through this road.

There was a red light, and the Ford creaked as it fell to a stop, Phil flicked the handle for his right signal.

"How're ya' holding up?" He asked.

"...I'm fine..." She sighed, eyes closed, mouth scrunched as she clenched her teeth. "I have to adjust myself to it, just... just drive."

"...Okay..." He battered away the urge to persist, you know, asking afterwards- 'Just tell me IF alright?' -because he knew if he kept it up, she'd swat at him or some crazy shit like that.

So onto the entrance ramp the Ford creaked and rolled- Phillip almost felt like not bothering to check his left as he merged, but he did anyway, and in the mirror's reflective space there was nothing but the endless extent of road heading west, and then straight ahead of them east.

The highway was barren- he spent a good ten minutes into the drive without even seeing the hint of another car- it was something with his development, there just... _weren't_ a lot of travelers here, even people who lived here, they just... Didn't drive a lot, it was weird.

Sometimes Phillip joked that the entire neighborhood had been invaded by the- 'Bodysnatchers' -from that old black and white movie, and that had been a running gag in the Linn household for awhile, until Mangle started screaming her head off about nightmares and thinking the aliens were real.

Phil shook his head when he thought of that- if he had told Mangle that Godzilla had stepped out of the Manhattan Upper Bay and started rampaging across New York and then Jersey she would've believed him.

"...This is great." Foxy said beside him, smiling out the passenger window, the side of the coat draping by her snout. "...This isn't so bad after awhile..."

"You feeling alright?"

"...It's getting better." She watched the golden trees that were on either side of the highway to the right- she tried picking out the silhouettes of houses that were in the developments nearby. "...Have we ever been here before?"

"The park? Yeah, I think a few times," Phillip answered her, glancing. "I think we passed through it once so I could take you to see those fireworks, remember?"

"That was a year ago."

"Fourth of July, feel that day EVERYWHERE, even here in boring-ville'." He blinked at the empty road on all sides.

"Alright."

"Wouldn't it just suck if we got pulled over by a trooper?"

"That's not even FUNNY, you ass."

"Well not SERIOUSLY, I'm just joking." He chuckled. "I mean, imagine that- 'Please step out of the car, sir, ma'am,'"

"That's the worst southern accent I've heard yet." She laughed.

"-Put your hands and paws where I can seez' them."

"-'Seez'-them?" Foxy ran a paw down her eyes, amused. "Oh, Phil."

"Ma'am, I'm gonna' have to ask you to stop swishing that tail of yours."

"HA! Ha-ha-!" She snorted. "DAMN it-Phil! You made me SNORT! HA!"

"I'm gonna' have ta' take ya'll in for illegal possession."

"Illegal possession of WHAT, officer?" She angled her head. "I'm sorry, was the stupid man speeding?"

"My wife' calls me stupid too, actually, I feel your pain, ya' poor law-breakin' slawb'."

"HA-HA! Phillip-! HA!" Foxy sighed heavenly after a moment, and nodded at his speedometer. "-J-Just watch the speed limit, please."

"It's illegal possession of a can of ASS-whoopin'."

"HA-HA-HA! Oh-Oh my- HA-HA! -HA-wait-whatthe-?!" She gasped. "No-no-no! Phillip! Stop! Phillip no-no- behind-!"

"An illegal can of ass whoopin', and a pound of illegally imported foreign tea, what do you have to say for yourself, weirdy'? - _'Me not know who owns it, officer!_ -" Phil gave his best Mangle impression- oblivious, until Foxy jammed him on the shoulder, hard.

 ** _PM_**

-"OUCH! Hey! Whatchya' do that for?!"

"Oh, Phillip..." Foxy slumped in her seat.

 ** _WHOOP WHOOP_**

-Phil froze in his seat with this look of horror about him- he turned to look over his shoulder, and he saw the flashing red and blue. All the guy did was just creep up behind him and flash his lights once, he didn't even see the cruiser pull up.

There was the- 'Joke' -quote and quote, right there, alive and well, and it was in a drab blue car, with drab gold markings, and the guy inside did _not_ look amused behind his pair of sunglasses.

Phillip swallowed, looked down at Foxy as he flipped his signal to the right.

"...Sorry."

"...I don't even know what to say." She shrugged, laughing now with sarcasm. "I just- I have NOTHING."

"I'm sorry!"

"It's not ME you need to be sorry too apparently." She looked away. "This'll be fun."

"...I got this, hold on." Phillip sighed.

The Ford bucked a bit as it drove onto the gravel-laced side lane of the highway's main pavement- Phil lightly padded down the brake, put the car in park, and watched with a pale expression as the state trooper pulled right up behind him, bumper to bumper.

Phillip gulped and kept his hands on the wheel- he looked over at Foxy and saw her still slouched down.

 ** _BM_**

-The trooper stepped out of the cruiser after a second, tan uniform highlighted in the sunlight of the bright day, golden badge lit like a sparkling beacon on his breast, a big ranger hat forming a brim of shade over his head.

The officer was redder skinned, had a little black mustache, big black sunglasses even though his hat protected his eyes from the glare enough. It was like the Terminator was stomping past the side of his car, working his way over to proclaim- 'Die, asshole' -and then a robotic fist would fly out and cave poor Phil's skull in.

He swallowed for a third instance, and lowered his window with a finger on the dial of the door.

The officer stood before the window, Phillip now wincing at the heightened sunlight streaming in from outside- he looked up, and the man nodded without so much as a change in his expression.

"Afternoon, sir," The officer tipped his hat a bit, shoes crunching through the gravel on the pavement. "Seemed you were going pretty fast, what's the hurry?"

"U-Uhm... Ah-" Phillip glanced at Foxy- and saw she was hiding underneath the garb of her coat. "-Ahm, I-I'm, SORRY, sir, I didn't even realize I was speeding- really bad daydream-"

"License, identification."

"-rrrRIGHT. Yes, right, uhm-"

"Ma'am, are you alright in there? Why the coat-?"

Phil's breath caught in his throat when the officer leant down to look into the window past him- even through the sunglasses, Phillip saw the guy's eyes get bigger. If it had been a cartoon, the officer's eyes would've bugged enough that the lenses would've snapped off.

"Oh my God-" He muttered, starting to take a step back from the Ford's side.

"What happened? D-Do I offend?" Phillip smiled cheaply, gripping the wheel.

"-What the hell is-?" The trooper was pointing a finger dumbly to the passenger seat, and Phillip felt his blood chill when he saw the guy's other hand raising for the holster on his hip.

He turned back to the passenger seat- and, clearly, in the sunlight dappling through the windshield- it wasn't hard to determine that Foxy's legs were furry. Big, russet, and furry. It didn't help the tip of her tail was poking out past her left thigh.

"Uuuuuhhhhhh-! She's got a... Uhm- EXCESSIVE HAIRINESS! Yes! Yes that's IT. Excessive Hairiness!"

"Dispatch I need back up-" The officer's gun was getting tugged out.

Phillip rolled his eyes- raised a hand, and flexed his fingers.

 ** _BMM_**

-The air pulsated, pure white light streamlined down the very veins that were highlighted on his arm's skin.

Foxy cast off the coat, and looked at him, and then the officer- who now, was standing there, eyes looking straight ahead, mouth creased open a little, hand lowering from where it had been reaching for the holster.

"-You're gonna' cancel that request, right, badge-boy?" Phillip sighed.

"...R-Right..." The trooper muttered- the sunglasses actually started to slide down his nose a bit as he slouched forwards, and then backwards- teetering, like he would fall over.

"You're gonna' forget you ever saw us, RIGHT?"

"...Right..."

"You, are gonna' let me try that hat on, right?"

"Phillip!" Foxy gasped. "You can't-!"

"...Right..." The officer reached up, and in seconds, Phillip was leaning back into the car with a fresh state trooper's tan-colored ranger hat atop his head.

"Hey-hey! Look at me!" Phillip laughed, glancing in the rear view mirror, and then at Foxy. "I'm a man of the law!"

"...Oh God..." Foxy hid her face in her paws.

Phillip sighed at her lack of adventure.

He was wearing a real ranger's hat! It was a little big on him, but he adjusted it on his head a few times, nodded, and thought it suited him good.

Chuckling, he patted the brim, then took it off to hold back out the window for the trooper.

"Alright, sir, here ya' go."

"...Thanks..."

The officer took the hat back up, clumsily, and then flipped it over to the wrong side, and placed the top cap on his cranium- effectively providing the world's first upside-down headwear.

Phillip watched this transpire with a shocked look- it was straight out of a cartoon.

"...What...?" The ranger shrugged- the hat barely staying on top of his head as it listed to the right, his temple now supporting the hanging brim.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HA-HA-HA! WOOO! OH-MAN! HAHA!"

 ** _VVVVVVVVVVVVVVRRRRRRRRRMMMmmmmmmm..._**

-The Ford screeched off back down the highway, kicking up an arm of dust from the gravel on the side of the road as it did so.

The trooper teetered there for another few minutes, until Phil was literally a mile or two away in the distance by that point. He shook his head, the hat flew off onto the street, where it patted against the concrete silently.

The officer blinked stupidly. He looked down, saw tire marks in the gravel- looked over, saw his cruiser parked, looked down again and saw his hat on the ground.

"...What the... What hell just happened?" He asked.

" _Dispatch to cruiser, what's the situation?_ "

"-Oh my God, I think I'm losing my mind!"

" _...Say again, Pete?_ "

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

"That was unbelievable!"

"That was amazing!"

"What if he pulled his gun?!"

"I didn't LET him."

"Phillip don't abuse that stuff!"

"Well I kind of NEEDED to use them to prevent him from seeing you."

"-And- And an EXCESSIVE HAIRINESS PROBLEM?!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't WANT to scramble the policeman's mind! I TRIED didn't I?"

"You jerk."

"Oh don't be that way."

"If you weren't driving I'd beat you."

"Nahhh'."

"Yeah."

"Nope."

"Yeah!"

"Nu-uh!"

"UH-huh!"

"Nu-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nope times infinity- HA!"

"God just rejected it, doesn't count."

"Oh yeah?! Well- ... Well- NU-UH!"

They both were chuckling by the end of that, and through the amusement, Phillip flicked his wrist and put on his right signal again- but this time, it wasn't because a cop was pulling him over, he was turning down the exit for the reserve.

The road wound down past more woodland- a gas station nestled in a lot, and then a main road that passed underneath a bridge that the highway would've continued onto for them. Phillip made yet another right- and soon a sign of green sheet metal passed by, with white words reading- ' _Elkside Reserve, 1 Mile'_.

Foxy had long stopped her chuckling- she was watching the side of the road intently.

"This will be great, I know it." Phillip said.

"...I still can't believe you, DID that, to that cop'." Foxy snickered. "-'Badge-Boy'-?"

"Yeah, why not. Now we're master criminals, Fox'."

"If evading the police was all it took for us to be master criminals, than we've BEEN in the soup."

"Ever since we started leaving the country. Pfft. Figures."

The car transitioned from pavement to dirt, as the parking lot of the reserve was just a big dirt lot with a grassy island in the center of it, walled off by a tiny stone garden wall. Propping out from the brush of ferns and tallgrass in the poorly landscaped center was a sign reading- ' _Elkside'_.

Just like Phillip had been confident of- there was only one other car parked here, and he had no doubts that it was the grumbling groundskeeper, who had been asked to come to work today in the middle of nowhere, with no people.

Perfect.

The Ford jolted in a final parking- he pulled up to a wooden fence that walled in the lot from the surrounding woodlands- two dirt trails broke off the lot's northern edge to the west and east, and a mesh fence held in the woods from the road intersection nearby.

"The great outdoors!" Phillip lamented- stepping out of the driver's side, slapping the door shut, running around the hood and holding the passenger entry for Foxy. "The place to catch lightning bugs, shit in bushes, and get eaten by black bears."

"-Oh, REALLY?" She laughed at him. "I thought we were here to have FUN, not death."

"Right-o', we are."

"I can't believe," She stepped out of the car, and she held her paw up to the beaming sunlight breaching the canopy from above the low. "I can't believe I'm in the SUN this long."

Her russet fur was contrasted against the golden rays, highlighted at the edges, a bronze sheen cast through the fibers. She bumped into Phillip with her shoulder and underhand tossed the coat draped over her side into the Ford.

"I don't need that thing." She said. "I'm in the sun! Ha!"

Phil watched her happily as he shut the door and started beside her.

They decided for the path heading west.

It was odd for a few minutes, walking on the uneven dirt path and the lot's fringes- it felt like they were stomping the whole time to get there- but after a few minutes they adapted to the stepping pattern, and they were going down a trail darkened in shade, with towering trees of all sorts whose bases were hugged by encompassing masses of foliage.

The birds and the cicadas had seemingly followed them.

They were still laughing from the event with the cop from earlier- even if it had genuinely frightened the two of them, the outcome was just too good to look at in a negative way.

They fell silent after a few minutes, side by side, just going down this road to nowhere in particular, with no goal in mind other than sharing the company- it was that great feeling that neither wanted to leave.

Even though Phillip wasn't wearing the P.J.' shirt anymore, and even though he had tossed the second note in the same folder as the first one- he felt the weight of the note on his breast, and then on his entire torso.

He knew it wasn't right by any measure to keep things from her, but, he was so conflicted over it, in addition to all the other garbage he had become conflicted over. He wanted his week to himself, with her. Thus, he reasoned the lie was worth it.

He truly didn't know, though.

"This is amazing." Foxy muttered from beside him. "I was cut off from this for so long. And even now, in a sense, I get to see it in quick instances, yes?"

"I took you on some tours that lasted whole NIGHTS, last I recall," Phil smiled. "Remember Istanbul?"

"Or in Tallinn." She reminisced. "...I really enjoyed Estonia."

"It was cold."

"But it was beautiful, wasn't it?"

"I guess, yeah... It was different."

"I mean, the exoticness, the foreign lands, all the different renditions of nature, that's... by definition, beautiful, yes?"

"Do you think so?"

"...Yes."

"Then yes it is."

"But do you?"

"I do. It disappoints me that we see all of that without being there to just BE there though."

"Maybe we shouldn't focus on that whenever we have those free nights, or," She looked at him and raised her eye ridges. "Or maybe even DAYS now too."

"I don't think we did, do you?"

"No. We were too busy having fun... Remember the Finnish border police?"

"THAT, was hysterical."

"I still can't believe that demon tried to use BORDERS to get away from us."

"Anyone else would've been stopped by that, I think."

"So we're super heroes?"

"I think we're, heroes... Yeah. Yeah I do."

"How come?"

"We've saved people before, remember-" He almost said East Anglia- he changed the thinking, found another example on the whim. "-Remember Peru? We saved hundreds of people from that sludge-chuckin' freak."

"And?"

"And what about all the other people we've saved overall just by killing these things? Have you noticed people are just... GETTING ALONG, in some of these places after we leave? I mean... I think THAT'S beautiful."

"Alright."

"What about you, Fox'?"

"Beautiful? Yes, yes I do."

"We are, by definition, the BEST team in the world, for anything."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah, definitely."

Foxy smiled over at him, held her paw out, and Phil took it up.

"Check that out." He nodded.

There was a huge monarch butterfly flittering out from the brush to the side- it had more black in contrast to the orange, white speckled, thin and coursing body like a stick of charcoal between the twin vibrant fans.

It hopped across the air a few times, bounded once, then all at once thrice- the insect looked like one of those Japanese silk hand fans if it had been caught in a looping breeze and cast into the air.

Foxy slowed in her walking as this beautiful little bug flew around before them- putting on a show, if they didn't know any better.

"Monarch." Phil said, figuring.

"What if it's a Viceroy?" Foxy joked.

"Who cares, it's neat."

Extending her paw out- her pointy trailed ahead of the rest of her digits, rising upwards, like a little perch for the insect- the butterfly, all the way over where it was- completely did the opposite of what either expected.

It didn't fly away, or vanish into the brush- the Monarch flipped once in their direction, and before either knew it, the wings flapped, the bug sailed right past Foxy's finger, and landed on the ridge between her eyes.

The animatronic made a tiny hiss of sucked in air- she tightened up, crossed her eyes a bit, and then grinned as the butterfly settled, spread it wings, and flexed them up and down on either side of itself.

"Look at that, huh?" Phillip said, watching her with pride. "I told you, you're special."

Foxy waited until the butterfly was in the air again- she hadn't felt it land, and she hadn't felt it leave. It was just a jolt of multi-colored motion, and just like that, the lovely little thing happened by, greeted her, and was gone with the wind.

She kind of wanted it to come back.

"I love the woods." She stated. "I really love it."

"Good place to pass the time, see the simplicities of stuff, I think." Phillip agreed.

They passed a dip in the path where the land started to decrease in level to the right- a slope, muddy, and filled with poison ivy and other root-heavy shrubs that curled down and up it like a green blanket.

A pond with murky water sprawled out for several feet into a clearing in the trees ahead of this slope- there were reeds growing in the silt of the little shores, dragonflies frequented the pond's surface, sometimes stacked in pairs as they laid eggs.

Frogs, or maybe toads, were pretty vocal somewhere in the tiny pond ahead- they both stopped on the little nature walk to see the next portion of the slideshow they basically were trekking through.

"Nice, but too bad it's probably filled with mosquitoes, yik'." Phillip cringed.

"Good thing I don't have blood, so to speak." She snickered.

"I'm not sure whether to think that's... GOOD, or, just... WEIRD."

"I guess both." She shrugged. "Phillip, let me ask you,"

"Yep?"

"You know I've thought about... Children, before, right?"

"Not as much anymore, I've noticed."

"...Alright. Well, w-what about you?"

"What do you mean? Thinking about children?"

"Like, your OWN children."

"...Like, having kids?"

"Yes."

"...Honestly, no. No I don't. I-I used too, for a little bit, I guess..." He shrugged. "Y-You know, when I was first starting to become a little more independent from dad, it did cross my mind a few times. No biggie' stuff, like- 'Gee', if I ever had a little brat, what would he or she look like?' -or- 'I wonder who that girl I find for that to even be considered, will be?'-

And, well, here you are. I've told you about the depression I went through, because, when dad died and, he left me the house, and he left me the car, I was overwhelmed, I didn't know what to do, how to do it... So after awhile, thinking about a significant other in life, just... Bothered me."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, Fox'," He smiled. "I'm past that part of my life. I found Matt, I found Mangle, I found YOU, I mean, how better could it be for me? I was handed happiness. Not many people get that blessing."

"You think MANGLE's, a blessing?" Foxy joked

"Uhmm, one in DISGUISE, I guess," He shrugged, and then laughed. "-Yes of course she is! She may be a freak, but, c'mon, have you met a more innocent soul?"

"That's what frightens me- she's TOO innocent for her own good."

"True."

"...If it were possible, for me to have something like that, a baby, or a child, SOMETHING, would you try to make that happen?"

"Pretty sure we still need to work out that little process for recreational purposes first, I can't even THINK about kids! Besides, we're... not... really... uhm- Y-You know."

"Yeah." She sighed. "I know."

"What do you know about child care, anyway?"

"Please tell me that wasn't sarcasm."

"No-no-! No, I didn't mean it- no. I'm really asking, what have you gathered on it?"

"Lots of shit in diapers, lots of crying, burping, getting sick, lack of parental sleep, higher stress levels, and the overall lie that somehow it's all really worth it." She listed off with narrowed eyes. "I've been reading about it."

"Ha-ha! 'Overall lie'- huh? That's funny."

"Alright."

"Well, being serious on it... Foxy, I'm just not sure that's really possible."

"I understand."

"Besides, that would look awkward- having little half human, half mechanical things running around, belching up engine coolant like Mangle does? No. No way hoe-zay'."

"Good point."

"...You wanna' change the subject?"

"Yeah."

"...Uhm... So, have you been... Reading? Anything? Lately? I guess?"

"Besides your books? Wikipedia."

"Wikipedia? About what?"

"Tanks."

"Called it."

"Oh really?"

"What ELSE would you be reading about besides World War 2?"

"We're both pretty much obsessed with it, so, another good point, Phillip."

"So? Details-details?"

"Ground attack aircraft myths."

"...What?"

"The effectiveness," She said dramatically. "Of ground attack aircraft, fighter-bombers, right?"

"Okay, and... What myths?"

"How good they were at blowing tanks up."

"Aw jeez'- is this about their guns not being powerful enough to pierce the top armor kind of shit?"

"Well, PHIL, they did only have 20'millimeters on them..."

"If air power had been SOOOooo... ineffective, against the Germans, than HOW COME, they basically adopted tactics, camouflage, and vehicular protocols, that were MODELED, to protect the tanks from consistent aerial operations? Huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look at some of the weird camo' patterns," He was getting into it again. It was almost as bad as the one time Foxy had ranted to Mangle about misinformation she had found on a website about D-Day- of course, Mangle had understood nothing. Here was different. "Those spotty ones? Those were made to mimic light flowing from holes in tree canopies and hedgerows!"

"But, Phillip, 20'millimeters and .50 caliber machineguns against tanks? Especially from the angle?"

"It's perfect!"

"How?"

"Just because the shells can't pierce the armor, doesn't mean it can't knock the tank out- I mean- THINK about it, with specifics, right? All you need, is for one of those shells to hit an open hatch, or a vision slot, or a hatch in general because the armor was thin there- and rattle around, kill the crew, screw the engine up!"

"Alright?"

"Think about sparks! Tanks need to breathe- or rather- the ENGINE, needs to breathe, and tanks are fundamentally designed to breathe from their tops- 20'mil' shells can kick sparks up, and if the engine inhales a spark, that's all you need for World War 2 era' exploding cans-o'-peas!"

"What about rockets and bombs? They were too inaccurate."

"You'd have to be a freakin' MORON to rely on rockets and bombs to knock out tanks! You think Stuka's knocked out that many T-34's with bombs or rockets? Or those cannon mounts under their wings? All machine guns and cannons, baby. Maybe a few lucky hits, but, c'mon."

"...You done?"

"Yeah-yeah, I'm DONE. Ugh."

"I'm actually NOT sorry I asked." She said, nodding for the path ahead. "Tell me more."

"...Uhm, OH- here's something else to consider-"

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	11. A Message to my Readers

_**So I'm sure there are at least a few people who have opened this webpage expecting an update, or something, after such a long period of time, and I'm sure many of you will be disappointed, angry, upset, and I just want to start this message out by saying, that's completely understandable, and I'm not holding you at fault for such, if you do indeed feel that way.**_

 _ **I don't know if anyone who read about my serious car accident awhile back is reading this post now, but I'm sure you might recall a note that I added at the end of my long, arduous message, which was- 'I'll never take up another chapter slot for just an update notification ever again' -well, I guess I lied, because I'm doing it again, today, this evening, because I feel like I should, for anyone that may give a hoot.**_

 ** _If you'll allow me a moment to express a few things to you, as my reader, whether you're just tuning into my work for the first time- (because I know updates bump these stories to the top of their respective lists) -or if you've been reading my stuff, whether it was once, twice, for a few weeks, months, and I know some people have reading my work since at least 2014, so, what, three/four years?_**

 ** _-If you'll lend me your device screen for just a moment- (I'm tempted to ask- LEND ME THOU' EAR'! -but, you know, not really applicable, Lol) -I'd like to inform you, tell you, discuss with you a few things that have been happening with me lately._**

 ** _So again, I write this as a creator to you, as the reader, because by definition, if you've endorsed my work, whether you've just glanced at it, or if you've taken the time to favorite, follow, or critique it, you deserve the clarity of knowing that I will continue to provide for your continued entertainment, and in this quest, I must confess, on Fanfiction, home to almost several thousand people who have graciously taken the time to support me in my dire hours of creative ironing and development... I have, well, kind of failed at that._**

 ** _I don't know exactly how many months it's been, but it's been a long time, I have no doubts many people have moved on to doing their own things or supporting other hobbies, each day the number of my readers that I can reach on here with this message I believe decreases, but I feel like I need to discuss it with however many of you I can reach anyhow, so, here I am. :)_**

 ** _I'm putting this message up here for a number of reasons, I don't want to just up and vanish, and I most certainly don't want people to think I've just disregarded my work on here, people's time they've taken to talk with me and give me feedback, and the progress I've made on this site with my audience._**

 ** _Beside that, I also want to tell you about WHY I haven't been updating, and why I've basically let my traffic on here and even on some of my other sites dry up, if you're willing to hear it._**

 ** _Assuming you're still reading this, and haven't clicked your BACK or X buttons out of boredom or annoyance, let me express an explanation to you, because you deserve one._**

 ** _So I've mentioned it fleetingly to some folks on this site that is not my only creative outlet, it is a piece of my attempts to market myself and create a social media outlet, with which I provide material in the interest of trying to construct my brand. In combination of college, and a freelance job, my time to commit to my online audience is limited many days, but that isn't the only reason I've gone dark for so long._**

 ** _I'll be honest and tell you something, my mind just sometimes shifts, and what I mean by that is, sometimes I have projects, I'll work on them for months, and sometimes YEARS even, and then they'll just- POOF! -stop working, I'll lose my creative grasp, or my drive, or both, and things that I've put a lot of effort into literally just cease to continue, it's like if someone built a road for thousands of miles, and then just abruptly had it halt before they reached their destination endpoint._**

 ** _I guess it's kind of like writer's block, but a little more serious. If you've read my material on this site, you'll probably know this all too well, because both the sequels to the stories I've written on here remain incomplete, even years after I devised the ideas, Camera Angles 2 and Worse than 2 Pairs of Handcuffs, being the prime examples._**

 ** _In combination with my college work and my freelance work, my creative energy has been focused on OTHER things creative, and I'd like to tell you about them, as many of you as I can, any way._**

 ** _For roughly five/six years, I've been developing this world of mine, it's not a Fanfiction world, or an alternate universe of someone else's story, it's a world that I have literally poured my blood, sweat and tears into, and even though it's been taking me away from other creative passions for the last few years, I'm extremely proud of its conception._**

 ** _I have been toiling- (sometimes until extremely late hours for seven days a week) -over a story that I plan on elevating to the same level as Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, there, I said it. Call me crazy, call my excuse cheap if you will, but this universe I've been developing is a prime reason I've neglected to keep my Fanfiction media outlet lively._**

 ** _Doubly, in addition to all of THAT, I have also been working hard to set up a larger social media platform, so I know some of you have looked at that little Blog page thing that I've set up, and some of you said it was really neat, and I'm sure several thought it was boring, and everything inbetween._**

 ** _I don't want you to think I've made this update post to simply advertise to you, because, I'm not trying to insult you, I'm trying to discuss with you WHY I haven't been updating, why I haven't been active with stories that I've gotten a lot of good people to look at and follow, and WHY I've been neglecting an entire audience base on my network, which is YOU._**

 ** _The universe's name is- 'Heroes of Crux' -it is a multi-arc fantasy epic, and I must confess that many of the things you may or may not have been with me in my development of throughout my writing here on FF, have all been PRACTICE, and evolution, in my efforts to train myself and learn the proper skillsets I need to complete and market this work of mine._**

 ** _-Again, I'm not trying to advertise to you, but to give you an idea of WHY my time has been so eagerly sapped away, I will relent to you that Heroes of Crux is MASSIVE, and my work to establish a better looking Blog, my Twitter and Tumblr accounts, and my P treon and Deviantart accounts, alongside it, have taken away from my ability to entertain you and provide content for you here._**

 ** _Heroes of Crux currently sports a planet and several planes of reality, there are nearly forty languages that I have documented and crafted from scratch separately and have made words and idioms for, there are six massive continents, each thousands of miles long and wide, there are made up ethnic groups of humans, and even non-humans, there are Gods, Anti-Gods, Demons, monsters, kingdoms and factions, all with made up names, made up cultures, origins, you name it._**

 ** _In my efforts to create this universe, I've also been crafting the NOVELS to go along with it, and THAT'S where the real meat of my effort has gone into._**

 ** _One novel is done, I'm currently editing and revamping it, it's 270,000 words long, with 62 Chapters, I'm a quarter of the way done with the next book, which is currently 50,000 words long, with 10 Chapters._**

 ** _I've also been obsessively working towards improving my ability to provide you with visual work, I've expended several sketchbooks and Photoshop pictures working towards drawing characters, places and things._**

 ** _So to give you a brief rundown, and a simple and final few statements:_**

 ** _-0-_**

 ** _1- I haven't been considerate of the people who have taken the time and effort to follow me on this site, and for that I offer my express apologies, it was never my intent to just leave people in the dust, for that, I hope you can forgive me_**

 ** _2- My novels, they're huge, and they require a lot of attention, like the longer stories on here that I've written. One is complete, one is a quarter of the way done._**

 ** _3- Creating lore for my universe and what I have gradually been coming to consider my life's work. Heroes of Crux sports made up languages, cultures, wars, nations, geography and planar nets._**

 ** _4- I've been working at drawing. I've been drawing all sorts of things if you want to look at them, tanks, cars, planes, characters from HoC, and- (ironically, considering the material I've created on here) -naked dragon chicks, go figure on that last bit, Lol._**

 ** _5- I've revamped my social media platform in an effort to get more followers, Twitter, Tumblr, Youtube, Pinterest, Blog and WIX, you name it._**

 ** _-0-_**

 ** _-All in all, I just want to let you know that I never intended to just vanish, and I've made quite a few friends on here, and I don't want them to feel like I just stopped creating, nor do I want YOU, as my reader, to feel like I just packed up shop and gave up._**

 ** _So I mentioned that- 'Sometimes long projects die' -thing earlier, I also want to tell you my plan to get at least some of my old readers back on here, and hopefully new ones._**

 ** _I've limited my workload, currently aside from my HoC work and novels I have a story on Fictionpress and Wattpad, and I think I should have a story on here that I can update consistently again, as a fresh start, to get my creative flow back on FF, as to provide entertainment for you, and content for you to consume, and to further market my writing style._**

 ** _I'm not sure what this new story will be, but I feel like I need to do it, because Fanfiction is the largest writing repository in the world, and I want to help the people- who have helped me grow -to smile. I'm not sure how or when Worse than 2 Pairs of Handcuffs or Camera Angles will pick back up, heck, maybe they won't ever pick back up, but I don't want to vanish from the community here, and I've been doing a crappy job of showing that._**

 ** _-0-_**

 ** _-ANYWAY, now that I've poured my heart out to you by writing you a whole friggin' BOOK about it- Lol -I'll sum everything up._**

 ** _My content off of this site has expanded rapidly, if you're interested, give it a glance. I'm going to start writing another long story on here, I'm just not sure what story it will be based off of._**

 ** _I know I've asked this before of you, BUT, is there anything in particular that you would want me to write about? Something to try and make up for the abrupt non-updating of my other stories on here already? I promise, I will dedicate myself to it._**

 ** _-I apologize again to anyone who might be angry/disappointed to see me coming back after all this time with just an update notice-thing, I hope you have an awesome-sauce day, I'll be back on here soon with new content for you, if you wish to follow me into the depths of uncertainty and creative passion, as some of you have before_**

 ** _~Don_**


End file.
